Grandpa, What's the Strangest Thing that Happene
by Lizzi0307
Summary: ***COMPLETE*** Alice wasn't the only one to go through the looking glass. A routine mission stirs up a lot of firsts. My first fanfic ever! Some content/references from "Ein Käfig Voller Helden"
1. Chapter 1

_Hi Everyone! This is my very first Fanfic that has ever seen the light of day. In otherwords, my first I've EVER posted. _

_Bitte, wenn mein Deutsch nicht perfekt ist, bitte schick mir 'ne Nachtricht, weil es 'n bissch'n peinlich ist, wenn ich es nicht richtig hab'!! hehe! Same with English! :D_

_There are also references here from the German Version of Hogan's Heroes (Ein Käfig Voller Helden), such as Newkirk's stutter and Kalinke (Klink's cleaning lady), see if you can catch them!! ;)_

_*UPDATE*_

_I want to thank EVERYONE for their reviews. I have edited this first chapter to reflect them, and hopefully it reads smoother now. I also edited it a bit to fit Oct. 1944 better, since that was completely my mistake forgetting that their operation would have been going for two years already. I chose that time frame for the bulk of the story...so too late to chose another date now...oops. I also added down at the bottom the German translations of the conversations that are important. Each is marked by a * and then a number. I am also uploading chapter two, so let me know if this reads better and I can upload the other chapters!!! THANKS!!! :D_

_P.S. I own "nothing", but it'd be cool if I did! (Except I do own my own character creations...but that's it...)_

**Grandpa, What's the Strangest Thing that Happened to You In the War?**

Oct 1944

„Ok let's go over it one more time, Olsen." Hogan closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them concentrating.

"Alright, Sir." Olsen sighed, he was getting tired of giving these lessons, but nodded understanding, if people were going to be going outside the wire, they were going to need to know the language, which meant giving German lessons, as Jansen and himself were the only two people fluent in German. However, after doing it for two years though, Olsen was more than ready for a break.

*1* "Guten Abend, Herr Oberst. Was kann ich für Sie tun?" Olsen played his part.

„'Abend. Haben Sie die Information des neues Panzer?" Hogan tried to sound fluent.

"Die Information? Warum möchten Sie die?" Olsen tried to play his part.

"Sie brauchen nicht zuwissen. Die Papiere davon. Sofort!"

„Es tut mir leid. Aber darf ich Sie-„

„Sofort! Oder willst du nach Sibirien fahren!?"

„Jawohl, Herr Oberst! Moment bitte! Bitte setzen Sie sich mit Fräulein Uschi und trinken Sie ein Glas Bier, ich komme gleich zurück. " Olsen smiled. „You are getting much better, Sir. After two years of working with you, I'm really impressed. Your accent is improving, as is your command of the language. Hogan smiled in return.

"Ich danke Ihnen." He thanked Olsen laughing. „But really...was throwing a Fräulein Uschi and a glass of beer in there really necessary?" Olsen smiled.

„Well, you never know what you're going to come across, right?." He paused for a moment. "Sir, are you sure you don't want me or Jansen to come along? In case things get sticky?" Olsen questioned his commanding officer.

"Olsen…I may indeed invite you. I will let you know tonight. How is the rest of camp progressing?"

"Well, pretty good actually. However, both Jansen and I are having trouble with Corporal. Newkirk sir."

"Trouble?"

"He…stutters…" Olsen said quietly. Hogan took a moment to soak this in.

"Stutters?" He paused for a moment; this made no sense. "He stutters?"

"Yes, Sir. He may not in English, but I can certainly tell you that he stutters in German. Kind of like how Fräulein Helga has a lisp in German, but not English."

"Is there anything we can do about? I'm no speech pathologist but, can't you work with him on it?"

"We're trying, Sir…I wasn't sure if I should mention it, it's just that…after two years we're running out of ideas on how to help him." Olsen replied exhausted. Giving private lessons to Colonel Hogan, and then lessons to the rest of camp was taking its toll on him. Granted during the past two years the whole of camp had greatly improved, to the point of near fluency if not completely fluent, but it was wearing him out. On top of that, he was still continuing his duties as the Outside Man.

"Roll Call, Colonèl!" Lebeau stuck his head down in the tunnel.

"Thanks Lebeau ! Olsen, go grab Kinch, and let's head upstairs." Olsen nodded and ran down to where their radioman was reading. Hogan stood up, thinking about their upcoming mission, and headed towards the makeshift ladder under the bunk. He had barely reached the top, when their new man Carter nearly knocked him back down.

"Oh! Sorry Colonel!"

"It's alright, Carter. Didn't mean to sneak up behind you." Hogan turned to see both Kinch and Olsen making their way up the tunnel entrance.

"Schultz's coming!" Anderson announced, watching the door. Stepping back, he gave the guard some room to make his grand entrance.

"Roll Call! Everyone, raus, raus, raus!" Schultz bellowed.

"Awww, Schultz, but it is cold outside." Lebeau said mocking a complaint.

"Don't you think I know that? I have been standing outside all day. My feet are frozen. But it's time for Roll Call! Everyone out, raus!"

"Ok, come on, people. Let's get this over with." Hogan ushered people out. The barracks grumbled and headed out in the chilly evening.

* * *

Schultz marched up and down counting them aloud.

"-dreizehn, vierzehn, fünfzehn!"

*2* "Rappooort!" Colonel Klink yelled, walking over to the line-up of prisoners.

"Alles da, Herr Kommandant!"

"Schön Schultz. Und wenn sie nicht da sind, wo würd'n sie denn?"

„England?" Schultz asked.

„Nein! Weil Niemand von Stalag Luft 13 flieht!"

„Jawohl Herr Kommandant! Niemand!"

„I hate to break up this little party, but my men and I are freezing. May we go back inside? I don't want someone to catch a cold." Hogan interrupted the two men.

"Of course, Hogan. How terrible of me to inconvenience you this way." Klink replied sarcastically. "By all means, go back to your knitting and tunnel digging…"

"Why thank you Kommandant! But we are already done with the tunnelling-"

"Hmpf! Since your Senior POW officer was so kind in pointing out that it is cold out here, I want to remind everyone, that throwing ice chunks at the guards is fooorbidden. And that anyone caught doing so, will be sent to the Cooler. Which need I remind you, is quite cool this time of year." Klink smirked. "Disssmissed!" Klink started to turn back to his office when he suddenly turned around. "Schultz?"

"Ja Herr Kommandant?"

*3* "Schultz…die Männer…!"

"O, ja. Auf jeden Fall Herr Kommandant. Back in the barracks, back, back, back." Schultz ushered the men of Barracks 2 back inside. Lebeau stopped Schultz

"Schultz. The next time we do this, can we do it inside? Or how about not at all."

"Jolly joker. Now inside."

"Alright Schultz, but only because you asked so nicely."

"Well, I think it's a good idea…" Carter added. Hogan approached Schultz after the last men had stepped inside.

"They're right Schultz, after all I know all my men are there, and we must consider their health…" Hogan closed the door on an amused Schultz. Turning around he faced his men.

"Alright we have a dangerous mission in front of us. We are going to need stand in for those of us going out. Kinch, are the papers ready?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Make an extra copy for Olsen, he's coming with."

"Of course Colonel." Kinch hurried off downstairs, their counterfeiting man Lambourne following close behind.

"Now Riggs. Have you got impersonators for myself, Carter, and Olsen?"

"You'self and Cater I 'oo. But I 'iddn't know sat Sergeant Olsen 'e comin' Suh."

"Change of plans." Hogan shook his head. Every time he heard Private Riggs speak, it felt like he was speaking a different language. One more complicated than French or German. "Now are there any last questions?" He paused looking around at his men. "Alright, if something goes wrong, you know what to do, right?" There was a communal murmur of "yes's" and "of course's". Hogan nodded feeling satisfied. "Alright then men, as soon as Schultz comes back for lights out we will be on our way. Lebeau, did Barret bribe the motor pool sergeant?"

"Oui mon Colonel. Two bars chocolat."

"Good. Then I want to see the impersonators in my office in 5 minutes. Everyone else…try and relax. "Hogan smiled before heading towards his office.

"Try an' relax 'e says. 'E's goin' off on some dangerous mission tha' can get the lot of us in trouble not ta mention get 'imself killed, and 'e says try an' relax. Blimey." Newkirk shook his head amused.

* * *

Hogan had just finished briefing the impersonators and sent them back through the tunnel when the door opened interrupting the activity in the barracks.

"Lights out everybody! Auslichten! Gute Nacht! Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite-"

"Aw quiet Schultz. Or I'll send you my bedbugs, postage due." Newkirk rolled his eyes.

"What'd I say?"

"Schultz, we need to work on your people skills. But not now. Can't you see my men are tired? Now out, out, out. They need their beauty sleep." Hogan intervened.

"They don't look tired to me…"

"Well trust me they are. They've been digging tunnels all day."

"Jolly joker. Sleep well everyone. Dream of home and of strudel. And if you do, please send me some in my dream…" A communal moan of "Night Schultz" greeted his ears as he turned to go outside. Hogan quickly closed the door, behind Schultz, and stood in the dark. Looking around he grabbed both Carter and Olsen and headed down into the tunnel.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Hogan, Carter, and Olsen were dressed like nazi Luftwaffe officers and where heading out the end of the tunnel that led to the motor pool.

"Now I want everyone to be on guard at all times," Hogan started to explain, "London made it a point to remind me that there is heavy fighting near Aachen."

"I thank you again for extending this offer to me, Colonel." Olsen chuckled.

"Anytime, Olsen, anytime." Hogan was the first to climb up the ladder, and there was the car sitting in the motor pool.

"Why didn't you have the guard take it outside the fence, Sir?" Carter asked.

"I didn't wanna push my luck. The motor pool sergeant has been a little nervous lately. He said something about bring the vehicles back in pristine condition. That and he is now charging a higher price for delivery." Hogan answered climbing into the driver's seat. He started up the car, and headed towards the gate. The guard opened the gate without bothering to check ID. _So far so good_, thought Hogan.

******

The car started driving northwest towards the Rhein. Hogan couldn't relax. He kept thinking about London's order again and again. They wanted them to infiltrate Nazi troops stationed near Aachen, swipe as much information about the plans of attack, and then send it to them. It was incredibly risky. Not to mention that Aachen is near Düsseldorf, which is about 4 hours away, with good traffic. Why couldn't he just drive to Frankfurt AM.? He could get there and back and not miss Roll Call. Sighing, he concentrated on diving on the bombed out roads.

"Can you try and not hit every bump, Colonel. Or I will need a new backend end after this." Carter request sleepily.

"Sorry Carter, just trying to keep you awake." Hogan joked.

"Colonel, I think that is a roadblock up ahead." Olsen snapped to attention.

"I see it Olsen. Let's see just how fluent my German is, shall we?" Hogan slowed and drove up to the roadblock. A young German, about 19 walked up to him.

*4* "Ausweiß Herr Hauptmann."

"Gerne." Hogan replied, handing the necessary paperwork, while holding his breath.

"In Ordnung. Aber vorsicht. Da vorne gibt's viele Schlaglöcher."

„Danke." Hogan rolled the window back up and continued driving.

"What's "Slayglooker?"" Carter asked.

"_Schlaglöcher_, Carter. Potholes. We need to work on your German." Olsen replied.

"Jansen says my German is fine. But what about 'em? " Carter asked again. Olsen rolled his eyes.

"He said that if you didn't stop asking questions that he'd put you in one."

"Alright fellows, alright. Let's not try to kill each other. We can save that for the nazis." Hogan sighed.

"Yes Colonel", "Yes Sir." Met his ears at the same time.

* * *

They continued to drive in silence, as Carter had fallen asleep. Hogan was pleased about this, because it gave him time to think about the mission. He still wasn't pleased about putting his men in danger so close to the front. Not only was the possibly of being caught by the nazis as spies, there was the possibly of being caught by his own side as nazis. _Or worse_, he though, _being killed by dropping bombs, from either side_.

They continued driving, stopping only for roadblocks, and other necessities. Hogan relinquished control of the car over to Olsen, as he knew the road system better than Carter, and so he himself could catch a few Zs. It wasn't long before Olsen was waking him up announcing that they were fast approaching their destination.

"Sir? Sir? We are almost to the command centre for this part of the front."

"Good. Now I want you to be really careful. This is only a few miles from the city of Aachen itself. We are now in very dangerous territory."

"Understood, sir." Olsen replied. Carter woke up and starting playing with his homemade bomb.

"This is going to be one of my best explosions ever! It's gonna go: POW! BOOM!-"

"Carter…" Hogan looked back at the young sergeant.

"Sorry sir. I'm just fond of this work. Thanks for letting me tag along. I know I still haven't been out on too many missions yet, well I guess that's not exactly true…what I'm trying to say is-"

"I invited you, remember?"

"Oh boy, sir, you did. My brother would be so jealous right now-"

"Brother? You have a brother?" Olsen asked.

"Oh boy do I! He's my twin, except well, he's a lieutenant. I would be too, but you see there was this thing about "officer material". And something about the army not liking me playing with my chemicals. Well, I mean, I was in-"

"Wait…you have a brother who is a lieutenant?" Hogan said thoughtfully. "I know him! He came through here some time ago…last year, no the year before that. I knew you looked familiar when you arrived!"

"He did?! Was he all right? What did he say?! I haven't seen him in a long, long time. You see we're twins, and well-"

"He's fine, Carter. Should be in England now. We helped him escape. He was number 187 if I remember correctly…"

"There it is, Colonel. Up ahead."

"I see it. Well everyone, it's German from here on out. Oh and Carter?"

"Yes Colonel?"

"Try and not speak."

* * *

Olsen drove the car up to the compound ahead. There were countless tents, and a few makeshift wooden buildings. Parking the car a far distant from any of the structures, Olsen, Hogan, and Carter stepped out. Carter clung to his makeshift bomb, which was hidden in his pocket.

"Why can't we just drive into the compound?"

"Do you not notice the distinct lack of useable road? Besides if we scratch the car, Dad will never let us steal it again." Olsen smiled.

"Oh. I also still don't understand why we are wearing Luftwaffe uniforms." Carter whispered.

"That's the beauty of my plan, Carter. You see, the Wehrmacht and the Luftwaffe hate each other. So they are less likely to check of identify for someone from the Luftwaffe, than they would their own service." Hogan explained

"How…?" Carter started to ask, but Olsen took over the explanation.

"It's like marriage. You want to spend as little time on the phone with your in-laws as possible."

"Oh."

"Quiet now!" Hogan ordered. The three of them crouched down in behind some bushes, barely breathing. Their ears were alive searching the woods for any and every sound. Olsen could swear he could hear the spider above his head actually spinning its web. Hogan nodded after what seemed an eternity and the three of them started walking in silence.

Hogan almost laughed at himself. Here he was still dashing behind a bush whenever a twig snapped; when in reality he did want to be "caught" by the enemy, since he needed to be led towards their camp.

* * *

After about 15 minutes of walking, Hogan stopped the group. He looked each man in the face for confirmation of their plan, and seeing each of them nod in return, they walked towards the gates. A guard standing next to a simple barrier stopped them. Olsen, who was granted by Hogan the highest rank for the mission, in this case Colonel, due to his knowledge of German, was approached by the guard first.

*5* "Halt! Ihre Ausweiß Herr Oberst."

„Natürlich Unteroffizier." He handed him the identity papers. "Bitte, ich muss mit Major Haff sprechen. Sofort!

"Jawohl Herr Oberst! Sofort! Bitte, komm'n Sie mit. Diefendorf, bleib hier." The corporal led the group towards a poorly and quickly made structure towards the centre of the compound. Nodding and saluting, he quickly scampered back towards his post, glad to get away from visiting VIPs.

Hogan nodded to Carter to start to set up his explosive around the compound, and then walked with Olsen towards the entrance of Major Haff's office. Unlike Klink's office, where there was a beautiful secretary typing away, and the building was made of wood, and build to last at least a year's worth of termites, this structure looked like it was put up in an hour, and would be blown over as easy as the first pig's straw hut. Hogan smiled internally and took it as a sign that the Allies were indeed wining the war.

*6* "Was kann ich für Sie tun?" A balding sergeant asked Olsen.

"Ich muss Major Haff sprechen. Sofort Feldwebel." Olsen replied sharply. The sergeant eyed him curiously, but walked behind a curtain separating the room. After a moment, he nodded towards both Olsen and Hogan, and the game was on.

* * *

_*1* "Good evening, Colonel. Something I can help you with?"_

_"Evening. Do you have the information concerning the new tank?"_

_"Information? Why do you want to see them?"_

_"That is not your concern. The information. Now!"_

_"I'm sorry. But you aren't-"_

_"Now! Or do you want to be sent to Siberia?" A/N a joke from the German version, as German POW caught by the Russians during WWI were sent to Siberia. Anytime a character refers to the Eastern Front, it is referred to as Siberia._

_"Right away, Colonel! One moment please! Please make yourself comfortable with Fräulein Ushi and drink a glass of beer, I will be right back."_

_*2* "Repooort!"_

_"All present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant!"_

_"Nice Schultz. And if there weren't there, where would they be?"_

_"England?"_

_"No! Because no one escapes from Stalag Luft 13!"_

_"Of course, Herr Kommandant! No-one!"_

_*3* „Schultz...the men...!"_

_„Oh, yes. Of course Herr Kommandant!"_

_*4* "Identity papers, Captain."_

_"Gladly."_

_"In order. But be careful. There are a lot of pot-holes ahead."_

_*5* "Stop! Your identity papers, Colonel."_

_"Of course, private. I need to speak with Major Haff. Now!"_

_"Right away, Colonel! Immediately! Pleas follow me. Diefendorf, stay here."_

_*6* "May I help you?"_

_"I need to speak with Major Haff. Immediately Sergeant."_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey Everyone! Here is the second chapter to my story. I put translations down at the bottom. Sorry that there is so much German...I promise this is the last time it is this abundant! :D Hope you like it, and let me know what you think!!_

Another balding man, in his late forties, stood in his socks buttoning his shirt. His face showed a large degree of displeasement about being wakened in the middle of the night. After finishing his last button, he turned to Olsen and saluted. Olsen hiding his disgust internally reciprocated.

*1*"Sie müssen uns entschuldigen. Ich weiß, dass es sehr spät ist." Olsen began.

„Spät, Herr Oberst? Spät?! O, es ist niemals spät für die Luftwaffe, na? Sie können gerne kommen, und gehen, wenn du willst, aber zur Nacht um 3 Uhr, nein das ist auf jeden Fall nicht spät. Niemand schläft..."

„Herr Major! Achtung!" Olsen yelled, snapping the major to attention. A look of disgust crossed the major's face. Hogan had to bite his tongue from laughing aloud at the scene that played before his eyes.

"Spät oder nicht ist mir egal. Verstehen Sie? Ich bin hier. Sie sind hier. Oder ist es, _du_ bist hier? Weil du schriest, wie ein Kind." The smile Olsen gave could have brought a weaker man to his knees, but the major just turned beet red, his anger fuming.

"Jetzt. Ich brauche die Information von Ihren Plänen der Bewegungen und Aufstellen der Truppen." Olsen told the Major firmly.

„Sie brauchen meine Information über meine Truppen...um 3 Uhr?"

„Genau." Olsen smiled. „Bitte geben Sie sie zu Hauptmann Baum." He pointed at Hogan.

*2*„Bitte sofort, Herr Major," Hogan spoke up for the first time, „wir müssen wissen, wo Ihre Leute sind. Von Himmel alle Leute sieht wie die Gleiche und….hoppla! Falsche Seite..." Hogan starred at the Major, although secretly grinning inside. After a moment, Haff relented and ordered his aid to make a copy of the plans and to give it to Hogan. Immediately after, he stormed out of the building and took a walk outside. Both Hogan and Olsen sighed in relief.

Ten minutes later, they were standing outside with the precious documents waiting for Carter. As they were waiting, the same guard that let them in, walked over, Hogan felt butterflies in his stomach.

*3*"Herr Oberst? Ich hab' geseh'n dass Sie zum Fuß hier gegang'n war'n. Brauch'n Sie 'n Auto?" The Corporal asked. Olsen was surprised, as was Hogan.

"Ja Unteroffizier," Hogan answered, "das würde sehn schön sein. Ich bedanke mich. Der Oberst findet Spazieren nicht so..."

„Angenehm?"

„Genau."

„Dann bring' ich ein rein!" He snapped to attention. Hogan exchanged confused looks with Olsen who just shrugged. Hogan was just turning his head away when he nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a tap at his shoulder. Turning his head, he nearly shouted "Carter!", but restrained himself.

*4*"Fertig?" Hogan asked him.

"Ja Alice iz ferrdig." Carter announced happy. Both Hogan and Olsen rolled their eyes. "Gehen weer?" Carter asked. Hogan shook his head and smiled at Carter's poor German.

"Wir müssen ein paar Minuten warten. Es gibt einen Unteroffizier, den uns ein Auto bringt." As soon as Hogan finished speaking, a car drove up in front of them. The corporal got out.

"Das Auto, Herr Oberst."

"Danke. 'n schönen Abend." Olsen nodded as he got into the front passenger's seat, Hogan was driving. Carter had already climbed into the back.

"Herr Oberst?" The corporal caught the top of the door. He looked uncomfortable.

"Ja?"

*5*"Darf ich…darf ich…darf ich mitkomm'n?" He asked. Olsen's mouth dropped open and he looked at Hogan who was equally surprised.

"Mit…kommen?" Hogan asked, not sure if he understood correctly.

"Genau Herr Hauptmann. Sie…Sie...Sie sind Luftwaffenoffizieren. Und, na, ich bin 17, und..." He hung his head low, „ich mag den Krieg nicht." Hogan needed to make a decision now. Here was this 17-year-old boy who clearly didn't belong in battle asking to come with in, but at the same time, they had a mission on. From a military standpoint, the boy was no threat, nor was he of value. But from a humanitarian side, he was just a kid fighting an adult's war.

"Wie heißt du?" Hogan asked softly.

„Unteroffizier Emil Hase, Herr Hauptmann."

„Emil Hase. Wir erinnern uns dich. Wir sehen was wir tun können. Aber wir fahren uns los. Eine gute Nacht. Auf wiedersehen."

„Danke, gleichfalls. Auf Wiedersehen. Heil Kräuter!"

* * *

"Heil Kräuter."

Hogan drove as fast as he could the second he got through that gate, the last thing he wanted was to be caught in the explosion that followed.

"How long did you set the explosions for, Carter?"

"About 15 minutes, Sir. Oh boy, it's gonna be big! I set them all over the compound! Are we going to be near-by when they go off?"

"Hopefully not, otherwise you'll get a firsthand view of your work." Hogan replied smiling.

"Remind me again why we brought him along, Sir:" Olsen joked.

"Because he makes things go Boom." As soon as the words were out of Hogan's mouth, a loud explosion was heard nearby, shaking the car as they drove back towards their parked car.

"Please tell me that was either your explosions Carter, or Schultz's stomach." Olsen asked nervously.

"Wasn't my explosions. It's not time yet."

"And I doubt that Schultz's stomach could set fire to those trees up ahead. So, eliminating the impossible, I would say that was unfriendly fire of some sort."

"Couldn't it be from our side, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"It is from our side. But any fire aimed our way, in my mind would make it unfriendly."

Hogan tried his best to navigate through the line of fire back towards the parked car, even though it wasn't that far away, he had to go slow because of the fire. Upon reaching it, the crew jumped out, and jumped back in their old car, now leaving the other car parked in the middle of the road. Slamming his foot down on the accelerator, Hogan sped as fast as he could out of the hostile territory.

There was an explosion to their left and a sudden wall of flame lit up the dark night sky. Carter's eyes widened as he marvelled at his handiwork. Hogan's thoughts turned to the corporal. Then he tried to push it out of his mind. He needed to focus on getting them out alive.

Another explosion this time closer rocked the car, and nearly tipped it over, and finally a moment later, one did. The car rolled, and rolled, finally landing upside down. Hogan shook his head to clear it.

"Everyone ok?" He yelled.

"The guys at the motor pool sure aren't gonna like this…" he heard a voice say.

"Ok, we need to head back to the other car; hopefully it will have more than just liability insurance on it." Hogan attempted to joke. Stepping out, he could feel a good-sized cut on his forehead, and his arm hurt like no other, but other than being shook up inside like a milkshake, he was all right. He saw Olsen immerge from the other side in about the same condition.

"Where's Carter?" Hogan was forced to yell over the sounds of the war. Olsen dove back in side, as Hogan got down on his knees; between the two of them, they managed to get an unconscious Carter of the backseat. Between the two of them they began carefully carrying him back to the car, unfortunately, they didn't make it every far.

"Well, well, well, well, well. Wadda we got here, eh, Mitch? A couple uh krauts." A deep southern voice emerged gun drawn from the dark woods.

"Yeah, yeah Mike, that's what we got. Yeah, yeah, a couple a krauts, yeah." A smaller man appeared also with his gun drawn.

"But they don't seem none too ready ta shoot no-uhn. This uhn might 'ready be dead." He poked at carter he the tip of his gun, sparking true anger in Hogan.

"He is not dead! And if you two sergeants are through making fools of yourselves, we are on an important mission, and need to get this man to a hospital!" Hogan's temper flared. The two sergeants stood there stunned for a moment, shocked that the "kraut" spoke such good English, but more that that, that he seemed to have given them an order.

"I don' think so Fritz. Ya see, we is roundin' up yar little nazi friends 'er, and I suggest ya co-operate with us, oderwise you're gonna be on da wrong end of

uh fire starter. Verstehst _du_?" The first sergeant smiled. Poking at them to get moving with their guns.

"What do you think the Geneva Convention says about being captured by your own side?" Olsen joked.

"Maybe you get to chose where you spend the war. Or better yet, they cancel each other out."

"No talking!" Hogan felt a rifle butt smack him in-between the shoulder blades. Things had been working out so well, they got the documents, all the equipment in the compound blown up, and they were even making good time, but now, they were definitely going to miss morning roll call. And probably evening as well by the looks of it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of Germans being marched forward. It looked as though the army had captured some of the members from the compound. In the line, he saw Corporal Emil Hase.

* * *

_Ok so that was a lot of German...sorry. But here is the translation of the conversation between Hogan, Olsen, and the Colonel._

_*1*__„You must __excuse__ us. I know that it is very late."_

_„Late, Colonel? Late?! __Oh, it is never late for the Luftwaffe, huh? You come and go as you please, when you want, but 0300, that is naturally not late. No-one sleeps…"_

_„Major! Attention! __Late or not doesn't matter to me. Understand__? I am here. __You are here. Or is it, you (an informal and insulting version of you) are here. __Because you (same version) cry like a child. __Now. I need the information from your troop movements and locations."_

"_You need my troop movement information...at 3 o'clock in the morning?"_

„_Yes."_

_*2* Quickly please, Major. We need to know where your people are. From the sky everyone looks the same and…oops! Wrong side…"_

_*3* __Colonel? __I saw that you walked here. Do you need a car?_

_Yes Private, that would be quite nice. I thank you. The Colonel finds walking not so…_

_Pleasant? _

„_Precisely. „_

"_Then I will bring one!"_

_*4* "Finished?"_

„_Yes, Evysing is frinisht."_

„_Doe swee go?"_

_Wir müssen ein paar Minuten warten. Es gibt einen Unteroffizier, den uns ein Auto bringt._

_We need to wait a few minutes. There is a private who is bring us a car._

_Das Auto, Herr Oberst."_

_The car, Colonel._

_"Danke. 'n schönen Abend_

_Thank you. Have a good evening. _

_Herr Oberst?" _

_Colonel?_

"_Ja?"_

_*5* „__May I come with?"_

„_Come...with?"_

„_Yes, Captian. You...you...you are Luftwaffe officers. __And, well, I am 18, and...I don't like the war. "_

„_What's your name."_

„_Emil Hase. We will remember you. We will see what we can do. But we need to go now. Have a good night. Goodbye."_

"_Thank you, you too. Goodbye! Hail Vegetables!" _

_A/N The "Heil Kräuter" phrase is a common one in the EKVH version of Hogan's Heroes, because as you can well guess, the true version of it…isn't exactly culturally acceptable. Besides "hail vegetables" is a whole lot funnier! _


	3. Chapter 3

Hogan's mind was racing. He knew that their number one priority was to get help for Carter, but at the same time, he needed to get back for roll call. While the impersonators could get back with one roll call easily, the longer they were away the more difficult things were going to get. Scanning the area as they were walking, he noticed that if they were able to get away (assuming they weren't shot), it wouldn't be too difficult to hide in the woods long enough to figure out a better plan. However, he reminded himself, both sides are going to be combing the area, and at this point, being caught by either side could spell disaster. _Isn't that where I am right now_, he thought to himself. _No, my best bet is to find whoever is in charge of Billy Bob and friend here and explain the situation. All they would need is to contact London and things would be cleared up_. That thought sparked a small ray of hope of the still dark night.

They were brought up to a clearing where the German prisoners were gathering. They were all being placed, hands tied, in the back of a lorry. _Heading out of the line of fire no doubt,_ Hogan thought, _but to where? France?_ A rifle butt nudge got him walking again, towards the lorry, but instead of approaching it, one of the sergeants ran and got his commanding officer.

"-two krauts. Uh of 'em's a colonel suh. An' 'e speaks good English too." The sergeant explained.

"Yeah, yeah major. We found 'em walkin' the road, Suh." The smaller one explained.

"Good work boys. Get the sergeant onto the truck, see that he is given medical treatment and taken to the infirmary upon arrival. Take the captain and place him with the other officers, and bring the colonel to me." The Major ordered.

"Yessuh!" Both exclaimed. Olsen was pushed towards the direction of the Major, while Hogan was taken over by a lieutenant to the other officers loading another lorry. The sounds of shooting had all but ended, as Carter's explosions had taken care of any major resistance the Germans would have had.

"Lieutenant, I need to speak with your C.O. It is quite imperative." Hogan started to explain.

"Aw shut up, Kraut."

"It is extremely important, and I must speak with him. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah I understand. You're gonna say you're actually a spy from our side ain't ya? And that you need to be freed. Well tough lucky buddy, cause I ain't buyin it." Hogan's mouth nearly dropped open. As two G.I.s helped him into the lorry with the other German officers.

"Now sit down, Fritz! I don't wanna hear another word outta ya, got it?" The lieutenant sat down nearby patting his gun, and eying the other Germans.

"Verdammte Tommy! Geh zum Teufel!" A German Major spat at the lieutenant. In response, he pointed his gun at the Major.

"Care to try that again, Fritzy?" The Major fell silent. Hogan sat down, for the first time, utterly idealess. How was he going to get them out of this one?

* * * * * *

Back at the American lines, things were not going well for Olsen either.

"I told you, Sir. The two other "nazis" brought in with me are actually American, like me! We are on a mission from London!"

"Uh-hu. No, no, I agree it's a very good story…_Olsen_. But really, do you hounestly expect me to believe you are an American, who just happens to be in a Luftwaffe uniform. Use your, what is it, superior intelligence that you are suppose to have right?" He shook his head, "nope, I'm not falling for it, Fritz."

"Please, Sir! Call London, they can confirm-"

"I grant you, you speak very good English. Spent some time in the US eh, Colonel? Studied there back in the days of George Washington? Now that we took care of that, I want to know where your troops are, how many, and their capabilities."

"If I was really a nazi, claiming to be an American, don't you think I would give myself a higher rank than sergeant?" Olsen's temper was rising.

"Maybe, or maybe you just want us to think that. You're not as smart as clever as you'd like to think, Colonel. Now your troop information, where, how many, and capabilities."

"Olsen, John Sven, Sergeant, serial number 47228935."

"Back to that again are we?" He shook his head. "First off you're too old to be a sergeant, all that grey hair around your temples. Second of all, we aren't playing that game anymore. You are my prisoner, and we are going to do things my way, Colonel. Now, tell me about your troops! Or you'll liable to stand there all night…"

* * * * * *

Lebeau was the first one up. While everyone in Barracks two was already awake, Lebeau was the first to actually emerge from his bed. He couldn't sleep, so, he figured, might as well get some coffee going.

Kinch opened an eye, and upon seeing Lebeau already making coffee, he also emerged from his not-so-warm cocoon. After nodding to Lebeau, he went down into the tunnel to check on the night radioman. A moment later, he returned.

"No news yet, mon Ami?" Lebeau asked.

"No, but the colonel should be on his way back."

"We will probably hear from London later about the destruction of the compound." Lebeau tried to hid his nervousness. Kinch nodded.

"Uh-oh, it's almost time for roll call." Kinch sprang to his feet just as three knocks were heard beneath the bed-entrance to the tunnel. Kinch opened it, and three men appeared, dressed like Hogan, Olsen, and Carter.

"Oh, Colonel ya're back." Newkirk sleepily opened one eye, making all the men who were awake in the barracks laugh. Then the door burst open and Schultz made his morning appearance.

"Guten Morgen!" He sang softly, and then added in a booming voice, slamming his hand against Newkirk's bunk, "roll call! Everybody up, up, up! Roll call! Raus, raus, raus!"

"Can't ya ever just skip roll call, Schultzie, and let uh man lie in for once? I mean we all know we're 'ere." Newkirk asked

"Jolly joker. Now out, out, out."

"Ok Schultzie, but you won't make many friends that way." Lebeau pulled his scarf closer to his neck.

The men from Barracks two stumbled into the cold, as Schultz made his usual count of them. Satisfied that all were there, he turned to make his report to Klink, who was walking briskly towards him.

*1* "Rapoooort!"

"Alle Männer da, Herr Kommandant!"

„Natürlich sind sie da-„ Klink was interrupted by one of Schultz's guards.

„Herr Kommandant! Herzliches Beileid, aber drei Männer sind geflogen!"

„Drei Männer! Hunde! Alarm!" He turned to Schultz, „Schnell Dummkopf!"

„Auf jeden Fall Herr Kommandant!" Schultz ran off. Klink turned towards Hogan's double.

"You at least could have warned me, Hogan. That wasn't very nice. What? No comment?"

"Laryngitis." Lebeau stepped in, hoping to keep Klink from continuing to talk to the double.

"Oh, how terrible. I had it once-"

"That's a very interesting story, Kommandant, but I think we better get him back inside don't you think."

"Oh yes, of course. You are all confined to the barracks till we find those escaped men. No one escapes Stalag 13! Disssssmissed! "

* * *

Once everyone was back in the barracks, Kinch quickly started issuing commands.

"Ok, now the colonel expected something like this. We have two options. One, you guys," he pointed at the stand-ins, "can either hide somewhere and come out and get into trouble for missing roll call, or sneak out of the tunnel later on once the colonel comes back." He looked at them for them to make up their minds. "Whatever you choose we need to hurry."

"But if they get caught escaping they will be thrown into the cooler." Lebeau spoke up.

"But if they turn themselves in, they might get thrown into the cooler anyways. We just need to 'ope that the colonel comes back quickly." Newkirk pointed out. The stand-ins looked at each other for a moment before they made up their minds.

"We can't get caught 'scapin' if Klink holds another roll call, 'ere will be no one to take the place of the Colonel, Sergeant Olsen, and Sergeant Carter. So, I think we will hide ourselves in the library section of the RecHall and pretend that we just were so engrossed in Mein Kampf that we plum forgot the time." Private Sydney answered. "Besides I sorta enjoy impersonatin' a colonel! I don't want it to end sooner 'an it 'as to!" He added smiling.

"Ok. Then hurry yourselves over there. And let's hope the colonel, Carter, and Olsen are back soon!" Kinch answered opening up the tunnel entrance for them.

* * * * * *

Hogan was trying to get as comfortable as he could, considering his hands were tied around his back, and they were being driven over a bumpy terrain. Sitting there had given him plenty of time to think, and he decided the second they stopped driving, he would try again with getting someone to talk to London. _If only I had my dog tags with me! Who would have ever thought that I'd get captured by my own side. Irony in a way, I suppose. I spend so much time trying to fool the enemy I'm one of them, that I fooled my own side!_ The lorry started to slow, and finally stopped. The guard opened up the back, and helped Hogan and the other prisoners down.

"You have 5 minutes to stretch your legs. Then we will be off again." The guard announced.

"Was hat er gesagt?" One of the lower ranking officers asked.

"Wir haben fünf Minuten." Hogan answered. He walked over to the guard, a different one from Billy Bob, and tried talking to him again.

"Lieutenant…Bailey." Hogan started, reading the guy's tag. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

*2* "Na! Was machst du?! Sprechen mit dem Amerikaner! Was bist du?! Verräter?!" An angry voice bombed behind him. It was the Major from earlier.

"Geh weg! Sie haben keine Ahnung, was ich tue!" Hogan shouted in return, before returning to the lieutenant.

"Do you have a superior officer I can speak with?" Hogan asked. The guard looked at him confused, and then grabbed his arm and started to bring him to the front of the lorry. There Hogan saw a captain.

"Captain, this nazi wants to speak with you." The captain turned towards Hogan.

"What is it Fritzy?"

"Captain please there has been a terrible mistake. Do you have an ability to contact London?"

"What's it to you?"

"Can you contact London?" Hogan asked again. The captain starred at him, as if scrutinizing him.

"When we get where we're goin' yeah I can. But why should I? What's this all important information or question you have?"

"I will let you know when we arrive." Hogan turned back, decided if he was going to sitting in a truck full of Axis prisoners; the last thing he wanted was for one of them to realize who he was.

*3* "Verräter!" The Major spat at Hogan as he rejoined the group.

"Verräter? Weil ich Englisch spreche?"

„Genau! Verdammte Verräter! Wenn ich meine Hände noch mal frei habe..." Hogan got the point of what he was saying, and hoped he would be far away when the major finally did get his hands free.

"Aber Herr Major. Vielleicht kann er uns helfen? Er spricht Englisch und-„

„Halt die Klappe Leutnant."

„Jawohl Herr Major." The lieutenant walked away.

"Alright! Everyone back in the truck! Now!" The guards bellowed.

* * * * *

"Look I told you, I don't know anything. I'm really on your side! If you would just contact London, or any on the underground near Hammelburg for heaven's sake! You'll know I'm telling the truth!" Olsen tried to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

"That is what you keep saying, but you just want use to expose them, don't you? So your little nazi friends can pick them up, eh?" The Major chuckled.

"No…that's-"

"Enough! Look…Oberst. I would love to believe you, I really would. But if you won't talk to me, a fellow solider, someone who understands the burden of command, then I have no choice but to send you to someone who doesn't." The Major sighed and shook his head slowly.

"Who?!" Olsen asked anxiously. Maybe it was someone who knew of their operation.

"You'll find out upon arrival. But until then, as a prisoner, you will be treated with all the respect due to your rank until then. We're the good guys, remember? Lieutenant!" The major called to his aid. Olsen's mind raced. If they truly thought he was a colonel, then maybe there would be someway he could turn this to his advantage. If he could just figure out how! Though, he smiled to himself, _at least it's nice to be thought of as a colonel!_

* * * * * *

Lebeau was pacing. It had been several hours since the colonel, Olsen, and Carter were due back. He tried to keep his mind on cooking something, but the thought that something had gone wrong was eating at him. He looked over at Newkirk who was smoking a cigarette and playing with his cards and winning all the money that the poor private he was playing with had. And Kinch was down in the tunnel, at his usual spot at the radio reading another classic. Though, Lebeau thought to himself, he doubted that he was getting much reading done.

"Full house!" Newkirk smiled. "Better luck next time, eh?"

"Again?! I swear you know are some kind of card reader." The poor private starred in disbelief.

"Look, Kaley, trust me on this, keep your hands and money away from ol' Newkirk and his cards. You'll survive the war better that way." Lebeau offered his advice.

"Now, just 'ang on a minute! Just 'cause I 'ave good luck-"

"You _make_ your own luck, mon ami." Lebeau snickered. At that moment there was three knocks on the tunnel entrance, Forester walked over and hit the side panel, and a moment later Kinch appeared.

"I've got bad news guys."

"What is it, Kinch?" Lebeau asked.

"Well it turns out that there was some heavy fighting near where the Colonel, Olsen, and Carter were last night."

"And…" Lebeau held his breath.

"Dunno. But it doesn't sound good. Apparently there were a lot of wounded, and all the Germans that the Americans could get their hands on where taken prisoner."

"So, you're sayin' that the colonel coulda been takin' prisoner. By 'is own side??" Newkirk was bewildered at the thought. He couldn't even think of the other option.

"It would explain his delay in getting back here. Aachen isn't _too_ far…"

"Well that'd be a right bloody mess. Do you think that the Red Cross would still deliver packages to someone 'ho was takin' prisoner by 'is own side?" Newkirk attempted to joke.

"I suppose the Germans could have figured out he was a spy and…" One of the other men started to say and stopped talking as what he was saying sank in.

"That's assuming he was taken prisoner…" Kinch couldn't finish his sentence either.

"Aw come on, mes amis. The Colonel and everyone will be back…you'll see." Lebeau put his hand on Kinch's back. "If nothing else, just to make sure that Newkirk here stops cheating everybody in camp!" He just hoped that they would be back by evening roll call, and that Klink wouldn't hold any surprise ones while they were gone. They had already lost three good men to the cooler.

* * * * * *

Carter slowly opened his eyes. His head pounded like there were 200 elephants marching the goose step inside. _Where am I? What happened_, he wondered. Turning his head to the side, he let out a soft groan. A nurse quickly approached.

*4* "Ah, guten Morgen! Wie geht es Ihnen. Schmerzen im Kopf?" She asked. Carter looked at her blankly, trying to register what she said.

"Aw, kein Wort von Ihnen? Wie schade. Ein netter Jung wie Sie sollen ein paar Wörter haben, na?" She turned again to get this young corporal to speak.

"Where-where am I?" Carter asked confused. He had no idea what this young woman was trying to say to him.

"Ah, you speak English. That's good. You almost exhausted my vocabulary." A British voice emerged from the young women.

"You're-you're British." Carter blinked, still trying to sort out what was going on.

"I am. And you are German. But to answer your question you're in hospital."

"I'm…what? Wh-where? What…what happened?" His words were starting to slur together.

"I don't know the specifics, but you hit your head hard on something. Now, enough of questions. How does your head feel? And your arm and leg?"

"Wha'?. Oh. Um. H-hurts." He was starting to fall asleep again.

"We will see what the doctor can do about that. However, we are running low on supplies. Once you're transferred to England for proper treatment, there shall be more available." Her words were lost on Carter as he closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

* * * * * *

The lorry Hogan was on, started to slow. From the light inside the back of the lorry, he could tell that it was getting late. He could only hope that his men could come up with a way to hide the disappearance of three men. They entered a small compound. From the writing on the buildings nearby, it was obvious that this was an American post, located somewhere in France. There must be a colonel or general nearby. If I could just contact them! The lorry stopped and Hogan and the others were nudged out by the yelling of their "captors". Hogan was still amused by the situation, as much as he was terrified for the lives of Olsen and Carter.

"-ok, ok, yes sir." The lieutenant that was in the lorry with them, turned and faced them as his CO started to walk across the compound. "Is there someone here who speaks English?" All eyes turned to Hogan.

"I guess I do." He sighed. Not wanting in the least to be a translator, but more than that, he did not want to be noticed by the Germans.

"Good, then you'll be the translator for this group." The lieutenant motioned that he should step forward. _Perfect, absolutely perfect_, Hogan rolled his eyes to himself.

"Let your men know this is a temporary stop. This is a transit station for prisoners who will soon be shipped to England and America." Hogan began to translate, hoping his German would hold out. "Let them also know that they are now POWs of the Americans, and for them, the war is over. We will abide by the Geneva Convention, but that they should try no, "monkey business". The duration here will be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. Until then they are free to move about. All the wounded should follow me towards the infirmary." He turned to Hogan, "I am making you spokesmen of this group."

"-die verletzt sind, sollen mit ihm gehen.…Ich bin…wait! What?! Me?! Why me?!"

"Because you speak English."

"Because I speak…" Hogan laughed to himself. _Yet again! Senior POW officer. Can this day get any better?_

Hogan finished translating for the lieutenant, and watched carefully as he walked to a building outside the fence. Looking up at the sky, it was quite obvious that he had missed roll call, and was about to spend his first full night as a German POW. _I hope that Olsen and Carter are holding up better than I am…_

* * *

_*1* „Repoooort!"_

_„All men present and accounted for, Herr __Kommandant__!"_

_"Of course they are there-"_

_"Herr Kommandant! I'm sorry, but three men have escaped!"_

_"Three men! Dogs! Alarm! Now idiot!"_

_„Right away Herr Kommandant!"_

_*2* „Hey! __What are you doing?! Talking with the American! What are you?! A traitor?!"_

"_Go away! You have no idea what I am doing!"_

_*3* " __„__Traitor__!"_

_„Traitor? Because I speak English?"_

_"Exactly! Damn traitor! When I get my hands free again…"_

_*4* „Ah, good morning! How are you doing? Do you have any pain in your head? Aw, no words from you? Sad. A nice boy like you should have a few things to say, hm?"_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: My Colonel Stevens whom you will meet in this chapter is based on research I have done. He in no way reflects what I actually believe about Americans at the time (or now). I personally love you guys!! :D_

_Also my thoughts are with those affected this day in history, 9th Novemember both in 1938, and 1989. May we never forget the tragedy of '38, or the hope of '89. _

* * *

"Still not back?" Lebeau asked Kinch as he climbed out of the tunnel.

"No, and I'm getting worried."

"'Ow are we suppose ta cover up for them at roll call? We already lost 3 of our mates this morning." Newkirk asked as he fiddled with his cards.

"I suppose we could bride Schultz." Kinch rubbed his chin.

"I can see for one, bu' for 3? That's a little hard ta cover up. 'Specially with the Colonel being gone an' all."

"We could say they escaped?" Lebeau thought aloud.

"No, then every goon would be out lookin' for them." Kinch shook his head.

"Well mates, we got ourselves into a real sticky wicket." Newkirk looked sadly down at his cards, which were stacked in his hand.

"Yeah, I suppose….wait! Hey guys I've got an idea!" Kinch raced towards the tunnel entrance.

* * *

*1* "Sie wollen…_was_?" A German voice answered at the other end.

"Genau. Könnten Sie es tun? Nur für ein paar Tage, bis den Colonel zurückkommt." Kinch answered.

„Naja. Wenn es für Papa Bär ist...Aber drei Leute?"

„Genau. Papa Bär und zwei Jungs."

„Verstehe Goldlöckchen. Wir haben drei Leute bei Stalag Luft 13 in einer halben Stunde. Blue Fuchs aus."

„Do you really think it will work, Kinch?" Lebeau asked, hardly daring to breath.

"It better, because, I'm out of ideas otherwise."

* * *

Within 30 minutes, three underground members were standing in the tunnel, dressed like Hogan, Carter, and Olsen. Newkirk couldn't believe it.

"This just might work."

"Thank you Newkirk. That praise means a lot coming from you." Kinch joked.

*2* "Na, Goldlöckchen, was sollen wir tun, wenn Oberst Klink mit uns spricht?"

„Sagt nichts. Wir haben schon gesagt dass Sie-„ He pointed at the underground member dressed like Hogan, „-'Laryngitis' haben."

„Lerinjaytis?"

„Yeah. Um...you know-„ Newkirk spoke really soft and horse. "I can't speak…" The underground agent looked at him funny.

"You could explain it in German, Newkirk. It might help." Lebeau rolled his eyes.

"Well, I don't want to, alright. There's no crime in speakin' me own language."

"Only when they don't understand it." Lebeau argued back.

"The underground 'as done fine 'fore speakin' English."

"That is because they were underground members who spoke English!"

"So it's just our ruddy luck that we get 3 members 'ho don't?"

"Ok, guys, guys!" Kinch broke into the argument. "Let's not tear our group apart; Newkirk doesn't have to speak German if he doesn't want to."

*3* "L'allemand bigrement! Ils ne veulent jamais apprendre la langue d'une autre personne! " Lebeau gave a dirty look to Newkirk.

„Je comprends et je le parle le français, Lebeau. . "

„Ok that is enough guys. Newkirk, go upstairs and fill the guys in with what we're doing. Lebeau, you will fill in the underground members with everything they need to know. Now move it." Kinch sighed. He hated being the one in charge…_I hope the colonel, Carter, and Olsen get back soon…_

* * * * * *

Olsen was not enjoying his bumpy ride in the back seat of the car. He kept hoping that around the next turn would be Stalag 13. _Not that I want to go back there, but I need to get back there. I hope the guys are holdin' up ok without us_… Olsen starred out the window. It was dark, and it was obvious that they had missed roll call. Putting his hand to his head he felt that the cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding, for which he was thankful. The car jumped over another hold in the road, and Olsen was amused for a second at the conversation with Carter he had about potholes. _Carter, I'm sorry I was rough on you buddy…I hope you're ok, and alive, and back at Stalag Luft 13_…The car jerked around another corner and ahead of him was a compound of some sort. The gates opened and he could see it was a transfer station of some kind for German POWs.

The car slowed down, and stopped. His captors opened the door and he was lead out.

"Come-on, hurry up. You need to meet the commander before we take you over to the infirmary" The captain pushed Olsen on the back to get him moving.

"Alright, alright, no need to push. What's your commander's name?"

"Colonel Samuel Stevens. You Krauts like to call him Colonel SS…you'll soon understand why…" The captain chuckled. Olsen tried to swallow, but it seemed his throat wouldn't work.

"Nice…nice nickname…" He barely whispered. Olsen walked into the tent containing the Colonel's office. He looked around, and out from behind a closed off curtain the colonel appeared.

"Colonel, Sir! Here is the prisoner, Oberst Viktor Herrmann!"

"Very good. You may leave us, captain."

"Thank you, Sir!"

"Now, now, now, now, now. What do we have here?" The colonel turned to Olsen. "A nazi colonel. How quant. And a prisoner in my own camp. Even better. No, don't speak. You know, colonel, I don't like nazis. In fact, I hate them. So save your breath. I'm transferring you as far away from your precious fatherland as quick as I can, and may you sit out the rest of the war pining for your home and loved ones." He paused a moment, "Or perhaps, even better would be turning you over to the Russians. I'm sure they would be quite…happy, to have a nazi colonel as their guest…" The colonel sat down in his chair snickering. Olsen was speechless. He always thought they were the good guys.

"You know, it's people like you who give officers a bad name." Olsen said before he could help himself.

"Oh? And how would a nazi know anything about that?"

"Because I'm not a nazi! I'm one of you guys! How many times do I have to say it?! Call London. Ask about an agent called Papa Bear! They can verify it!"

"A spy?"

"I wouldn't call myself that, but if it gets you to call London, sure already!"

"I don't like spies, nazi, or even more, traitors. I can have you shot for either."

"You? What?! No! No, you misunderstand-"

"Oh I don't misunderstand anything. We will continue this chat later. For now, I am sending you to the infirmary. Only because I have to. Stupid Geneva Convention…" He muttered under his breath. Olsen was escorted out by the captain who was waiting on the other side of the curtain. He was stunned. He had heard of mistreatment on their own side, but never wanted to believe it.

He walked to the other side of the compound where an Allied doctor greeted him. The tent was filled with wounded. Nevertheless, as he was taken to sit down on a bed, he spied Hogan in the other corner. He nearly screamed with joy. Instead, he took large, quick steps over to his CO. He paused a moment, not sure whether to speak in English or German. Deciding to go with German, as he had an aversion to being killed as a spy by the other Germans in the tent.

"Hauptmann Baum?" Olsen spoke barely above a whisper. Hogan turned and relief was seen in his eyes. He wanted to jump up and hug Olsen to prove to himself that he was not an illusion, but wisely resisted.

*4* "Du-du lebst! Gott sei Dank! Wo ist Car-Feldwebel Jung?" Hogan's knot in his stomach had only slightly loosened, since it now he at least one of his men were alive and well.

"Ich….ich hab' ihn leider nicht gesehen..." Olsen felt his head drop sadly. Hogan was about to rely with something along the lines of "It's not surprising since we are in an officer camp", but a nurse came over and lead Olsen away, so Olsen's wounds could be treated. _At least two of us are back together_. _Now to do something about getting out of here. Someone in the camp should have some brains. After all, we are in the Allied camp!_

* * * * * *

Kinch's stomach was in a knot. This would have to work; otherwise, he would have just put everyone's lives in danger. Not that Klink was the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he noticed things time to time. It would be Schultz that they would need to fool. _Colonel Hogan is the best at it_, Kinch thought, _but I've learned a trick or two of my own…right?_ He just couldn't relax, and he could tell that it was making everyone else uneasy. Therefore, he decided to climb down to the tunnel to sit at his radio. He hoped the radio would start sending dits and dahs of a message from the colonel but it remained silent. He was secretly glad that London hadn't rang. The last thing they needed was another mission to go on.

Kinch was just settling into the middle of his chapter from his book about Houdini, when a message in Morse started to come in. Kinch's heart jumped, hoping it was from the colonel. However, it soon dropped as he heard the dits and dahs.

*5* ".- --. . -. - / -.-. --- -- .. -. --. / .. -. / .- - / ..--- ..--- ----- ----- .-.. --..-- / --. .. ...- . / .... .. -- / - .... . / .. -. ..-. --- .-. -- .- - .. --- -. .-.-.- " Kinch starred at what he wrote on the page, focusing on the main part of the message; unsure on how to respond to London. Finally deciding to send one word:

".-- .. .-.. -.-. --- .-.-.- " London had just opened up a whole new set of problems.

* * *

Kinch started to climb the ladder that lead up to the barracks below. Knocking three times to make sure it was clear of krauts, his mind was racing to come up with a way to tell the guys about what London had sent over. Not receiving a "do not come up" message, he opened the trap door and came up. Lebeau was the first to approach Kinch.

"What is it Kinch?"

"You look like you're goin' to a funeral, mate." Newkirk sat down next to Kinch at the table.

"In a way I have. Read this." He handed the note to Newkirk.

"Prepare for pickup. British agent on special mission. Code name Finder's Keepers. Agent coming in at 2200L, Give him the information from Aachen mission, and all co-operation he requires." Newkirk read the note aloud. "Bloody 'ell. We don't 'ave the information!"

"What did you tell them, Kinch?" Lebeau asked. Kinch paused a moment before answering.

"Um…well…I told them we _would co-operate_." Kinch paused again as his friends made outbursts. "What else was I suppose to do! We can explain to the agent what happened, and perhaps he can help us figure something out."

"I don't want some paper-pusher comin' in an' tellin' us w'at ta do!"

"Look, Newkirk, what else would you have me do. Either way the agent was comin' in. At least this way, it buys us some time to figure out why the colonel isn't back with Olsen, Carter, and the information." _I hope_.

* * *

Kinch and Lebeau soon found themselves dressed in dark clothes heading out into the chilly evening. Autumn had truly descended upon them. Walking silently through the woods near the camp, the two of them were left to their own thoughts. While not sharing their ideas with the other, both were in fact thinking the exact same thing. _What have we got ourselves into this time?_ And _how are we gonna get ourselves out of it?_ Kinch glanced down at his watch; they still had 5 minutes before meeting the Agent. Then before either of them had a chance to turn themselves into nervous wrecks, there was a hand on both of their shoulders. Kinch and Lebeau jumped out of their skins at the sudden and completely silent approach.

*6* "Ahh! Ne pas faire cela ! Vous m'avez effrayé à la mort ! " Lebeau yelled before he realized what he was doing.

"Trist! Jeg betød ikke at forskrække dig!" A soft female voice replied. Kinch looked between the two of them. It was obvious that this person also now knew who they were based on Lebeau's outburst and it was obvious that this was their contact based on her reply. However, procedure was procedure, one can never be too careful, so he started with the codes.

*7* "Ich habe einen Papa Bär gefunden. Was soll ich damit tun?"

„Ich sage immer mal, Finder's Keepers." The young women replied. „Papa Bear?"

"Finder's Keepers?" Kinch asked; the women nodded. "Good, then let's get you to camp."

"I would prefer if I could just get the information now, it is imperative I get it to London as soon as possible." A singsong Danish voice emerged from the young women.

"All will be explained upon arrival. I promise. Our camp is not too far, and we need to be quiet to avoid patrols." Kinch started to lead the way.

"I'm curious," Lebeau spoke up for the first time, "Why is a young Danish woman on a dangerous mission in southern heart of Germany?"

"I owe Papa Bear much. It was worth the risk and so I volunteered. As for how I got here out of my own country…that is a story I do not share lightly." She explained, Lebeau nodded and didn't ask anymore. The three of them started walking quickly and quietly back to Stalag 13.

* * *

The camp was completely quiet with the exception of the night guards patrolling the fences. The inhabitants were asleep. Or rather, that is what they wanted the night guards to believe. Instead, the camp lay awake, thinking about their CO and two of their companions spending the night out in the chilly air…somewhere. The worst of the fidgeting came from Barracks Two, the home for the three missing members.

Newkirk lay on his bunk starring at the ceiling. He wished he had a cigarette or a deck of cards in his hands to keep himself occupied. Finally when he though he might scream from his racing mind, he heard the entrance to the tunnel open. Looking over he saw Kinch, Lebeau, and a young, attractive woman enter. All thoughts immediately turned to the women. _She must be the agent. A beautiful bird of an agent_, Newkirk smiled at her, even though she couldn't see it in the dark.

"Newkirk, you awake?" Lebeau whispered as he rounded the table towards Newkirk's head.

"'Course I'm awake mate. With a bird like that standin' near me bunk, 'ow can a man sleep?" Newkirk whispered in return.

"Good. Newkirk, follow us into the Colonel's office." Kinch lead the way into Hogan's office with Lebeau, the agent, and Newkirk in tow.

"Ok everyone this is Finder's Keepers." Kinch made the introduction, mostly for Newkirk's sake.

"I believe it. If I found ya, I'd keep ya." Newkirk chuckled.

"Down Peter down. Now. We need to discuss the information the Colonel was picking up-" Kinch started to explain as he gestured for the rest of them to sit down.

"I don't want to be uncourteous, but I need the information. London is counting on it." The Agent interrupted.

"Well…that's the problem. Our own agent hasn't returned. At this point we aren't sure what happened." Kinch looked down at the ground.

"Oh…I'm, I'm sorry. I heard that the compound was destroyed by Allied fire, and we assumed your men got out safety before…-"

"That is what we are hoping. But we have had no contact since they left on the mission." No one knew what to say after that. Each hoping that the other would speak up, breaking the uneasy silence.

"What should we do then? My superiors are waiting for the information in order to attack." The Agent broke the awkward silence.

"I wish I had a good answer for you." Kinch had no idea how Colonel Hogan thought up solutions so quickly and easily. He would have given anything for the Colonel to be back and in charge.

* * *

*1* "You want…what?"

"Exactly. Could you do it? Only for a few days, until the Colonel returns."

"Well. If it's for Papa Bear…but three people?"

"Understand Goldilocks. We will have three people at Stalag Luft 13 in a half an hour. Blue Fox out."

*2* „Um, Goldilocks, what should we do if Colonel Klink speaks with us."

"Say nothing. We already told him that you have -"'laryngitis.'"

*3* "Bloody English! They never want to learn another's language!"

"I understand and speak French, Lebeau."

*4* „You-you live! Thank God! Where is Car-Sergeant Jung?"

"I…I unfortunately haven't seen him…"

*5* "- Agent coming in at 2200L, Give him the information-"

"Wilco"

*6* "Don't do that! You scared me to death!"

" Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!"

*7* "I found a Papa Bear. What should I do with it?"

"I always say, Finder's Keepers."


	5. Chapter 5

_Hi Everyone! I am still having trouble with format, so where I need a paragraph space inbetween, you will see ____ vs *** when it is like the start of a new section. Hopefully I can get this figured out soon. _

_______________________

Kinch wasn't the only one wishing that Colonel Hogan was back at "home". Colonel Hogan or rather, Hauptmann Baum was laying on his back starring at the ceiling trying to figure a way out of the mess he'd gotten himself into. He'd been dreaming of heading back to England, or even more, the US, but this isn't quite what he had in mind. _Irony again. I've been dreaming of the Allied tanks rolling up to the camp gates, now I'm in a camp where that happens on a daily bases, and now more than anything I want to get out of here_. He chuckled to himself silently. Suddenly an idea came to him. Every camp has a Big Man, or someone who knows the rundown and can get you in contact with an escape committee. While the idea of actual nazis escaping the Allies hands made him sick to his stomach, maybe he could get of there and head back towards camp. Hogan suddenly sat up, and became dizzy for a moment at the sudden change in blood flow. He crept from the bunk and headed over to where Olsen was also awake and starring at the ceiling. Hogan crotched by Olsen's head and began to whisper his idea.

*1* "Herr Oberst." Olsen turned his head towards Hogan's voice. "Ich hab' ne Idee. Wir müssen fragen, wer in diesem Camp der Fluchtausschuss ist. Dann, wala! Ein Stück Kuchen!" Hogan chuckled as he used Carter's favourite phrase. Olsen shook his head amused, then nodded in agreement. With that, Hogan went back to his own bunk.

_______________________

If it had been that easy, Hogan and Olsen would have been out by lunch. Unfortunately, the doctors considered them healed enough to be sent in with the rest of the prisoners. This meant that they were both taken to a line-up. Then one by one were checked for nazi tattoos and given a through check for lice and other malailments before being sent to the de-lousing station. While both were being examined, a non-com was searching their clothes for anything that might be hidden. Hogan held his breath as the private began looking at his hat. He wasn't sure if he wanted the private to find the documents, or not. But the suspense was killing him. If they found it, it would be turned over to London, but if he didn't find it, Hogan would turn it over to London anyways. But if they did find it, then it may get to the wrong people. But if they didn't find it, who knows when London would get the information. But if they did find it, maybe Hogan could prove his identity. But if they didn't find it…Hogan didn't have to wait long to find an answer to the war in his mind.

"Lieutenant. I found somethin' in this here kraut's hat. It looks like some sort of a troop location chart." The private showed his lieutenant.

"Good work, Thompson. Bring it to the CO. Whose hat did you find it in?" Thompson looked at the hat and then to his list to answer the question.

"A Hauptmann Jan Baum." Hogan attempted to swallow as he heard his false name. The lieutenant looked up and down the line attempting to determine who was the Hauptmann. Looking down at the list of men and their belongings, he was able to correctly identify Hogan.

"You. You come here." The lieutenant pointed directly at Hogan and then at a spot on the ground in front of him, making no room for an excuse that he didn't know he was the one being pointed at. Hogan took a step forward. "Private, see that this man is taken till the cooler until you can finish examining his clothes, then come get me and we shall take him to the Colonel."

"Right away, Sir!" Hogan was lead in his underwear to the cooler. He was given a blanket to keep himself warm with until they came back for him. Olsen starred helpless as his CO was taken away. The rest of the line-up went without a hitch.

_______________________

Olsen was taken to the main part of the transit camp, where the nazis waited to be shipped off either to England or the US. Feeling his hair from where the grey dye came out in the de-lousing station, he walked around trying to ordinate himself with the place, and from where to make the best escape. Unfortunately, it was well build. _What I won't give to have Klink in charge. _He laughed to himself. _Can't believe I'd ever miss being a prisoner in his camp. _Spotting a group of older men talking in hushed tones, he started to walk over, thinking about what he wanted to say. As the group dispersed, he managed to catch one.

*2* "Kann ich Ihnen helfen, Herr Oberst?" The lieutenant asked.

„Hoffentlich. Wie kann man von hier fluchten?" He asked carefully. The lieutenant became really nervous.

„Umm. Ich-ich weiß nicht, Herr Oberst. Viele-viele von den Männern, die-die nicht flu-fluchten wollen. Na...ich-ichleiderkannIhnennichthelfen." He mumbled, and then quickly yelled, "Mahlzeit!" Then with the salute, he ran off, leaving a very stunned Olsen.

******

Carter opened his eyes to see a swaying lamp above his head. He watched it for a moment quite confused as to why it was moving, a moment later he realized it wasn't just the lamp that was moving, but his bed as well, leaving him even more confused. Attempting to sit up, he saw that there was a window nearby, and outside was a sea of blue. _Sea of blue. Sea of…-Sea!? I'm at sea?!_ He laid his head down with a moan. A moment later, a nurse was at his side.

"Ah I see you're finally awake. That's good are you hungry?" Seeing Carter's confused stare, she assumed that he was confused because he didn't speak English, when in reality he was trying to take the whole situation in.

"Hungry, umm…" she gestured with her fingers towards her mouth. "Hungry." Carter was much too confused to be thinking about food. It took him a moment to form words in his foggy mind in order to communicate.

"Where-where am I? Am I on, on a sh-ship?"

"Oh you do speak English. Good, because I am afraid I don't speak German. Yes, you are heading towards England. You will be in hospital for a few days before being transferred to a prison of war camp. There you will be reunited with your um…friends." Carter tried to soak in the information.

"Oh good." Carter closed his eyes again. "It's been a while since I've been in England…I miss the place…Newkirk should come…he promised to show me the good parts of London…" Carter started to mumble and fall back asleep, "I still haven't seen the Tower yet…I wonder if Samantha still works at the pub near the base…" As Carter fell asleep again, he left a very confused and bewildered nurse standing over him. A moment later, she ran off to find her superiors and tell them what this "jerry" just said.

******

Hogan walked around the cooler pressing on all the walls, as if by some magic one of them would be a trap door, and lead him out of there. However, he had no such luck. It had been over half an hour by Hogan's guess, and he was still suck in his under-shorts in a freezing cell with nothing more than a blanket to keep him warm. He wished something would happen. But at the same time, wishing that that something wouldn't be anything not in his favour. He heard the door to the cooler open, and heavy footsteps come down the hall. A moment later, there were keys opening his cell, and an older captain stood in the doorway. He threw Hogan his clothes.

"Get dressed scum. You're going to see the Colonel."

"Thank you, I do so want to make a good impression."

"Look Fritz. I hate you goons more than I hate spinach. I am gonna tell you this once, and only once. Get on my bad side, and you won't live to regret it. Geneva Convention or not."

"I'll keep that in mind. Now, shall we go? I wouldn't want to keep your colonel waiting." The captain glared at Hogan, who was now fully dressed in his Luftwaffe uniform. The two headed out of the cooler and towards Colonel SS's office.

"You're sure that's what he said." Major Holmes asked Nurse Rogers as they sat in this office discussing Carter.

"Positive."

"Oh dear then. We seem to have caught a spy in our little web then."

"But from whose side? What he said could be interrupted as anything."

"Well that does seem to be quite a problem then doesn't it? I suppose we'll just have to question the chap more when he wakes up again, eh? Does he mumble as he sleeps?"

"In a way, Sir. He says things once in a while, but nothing that will be of any use to us I believe Sir."

"What does he say?"

"He says things like 'I'm with Papa Bear' and 'Stop cheating, Newkirk' and mentions the name 'Felix' quite a bit."

"Hm. Let us have our boys see what they can run down on this "Felix" chap. See what turns up. Hopefully we have catch one of theirs. It would be terribly embarrassing if it is one of ours."

"Yes sir. I will be getting back to my patients now."

"Of course. Cheerio."

******

Kinch paced in Colonel Hogan's office. It had been three days since Colonel Hogan, and Sergeants Olsen and Carter had been missing. Pacing the office he was trying to come up with a plan, and fast. After pacing for a few hours, he thought he finally came up with something.

Leaving the office he went to hunt down the rest of his team, including the young women they acquired last night. He didn't have to go far to find them. Unsurprising there was half the camp (if not more) down in the tunnel attempting to sweep her off her feet. Approaching the madness Kinch was more than amused to see her just sitting back enjoying the attention, and thoroughly having a great time.

"-no, no I'm afraid I haven't seen many films. But the next time I do, you and I will go Corporal…?"

"Meyer. But please, call me Nicky, everyone does." Corporal Meyer tried to fight the others to be next to her.

"You don't want to see a movie with him! I'll cook you dinner, what's your favourite thing to eat? I'll make with my own two hands." A private spoke up.

"I'm sure I'll love it. Can you make Rødgrød med Fløde?"

"Cooking! Movies! Ma'am you don't wanna do those! I'm a poet, and I will read you some of the most beautiful words you have ever heard! We can meet over a candlelight table and-" Sergeant Tom Langly pushed Meyer out of the way to be next to the female.

"I think that may be a little hard to come by in a POW camp, Tom." Kinch interrupted to feeding frenzy.

"Now, now, we shouldn't shut these boys down." She turned to Langly. "If you can get a candlelight table, I would love to hear some of your poetry." She smiled. Kinch couldn't help but admire a women who could keep her head when surrounded by 100 men who haven't seen a women in months if not years, in a tiny tunnel, that shouldn't even be able to fit them all.

"Well I hate to break up this little dating contest, but I actually need the girl for her mind."

"Sorry boys, duty calls. We'll continue this later, my chaperone is here." She smiled, filtered through the hoard of men, and followed Kinch to another part of the tunnel. "Rescued by a knight in shining armour, thank you."

"Rescued? It seemed you were enjoying that." Kinch smiled

"Well…maybe a little. It's every girl's dream to be hunted down by a mob of hungry men…" She laughed. "Where are we going?"

"I have an idea on how to get the information and rescue the members of our team all at the same time. We need to grab Newkirk and Lebeau, and then all will be explained."

"Hmm, I've heard those words before." She laughed.

_______________________

Once they were all seated at the far end of a tunnel, with a man on guard duty (from the young men), Kinch set out to explain his plan.

"It would require making a lot of inquiries, but my thought is to first contact London and see if they have heard anything, and contact all the underground members, and see if they have heard anything. We will also contact discreetly some of the German troops, and see if men matching the description of the Colonel, Olsen, and Carter were killed or captured."

"W'at if they discovered they were spies?" Newkirk asked.

"Cross your fingers that didn't happen."

"What do you want me to do?" Finder's Keepers asked.

"I will have you contact any members of the underground in this area that you know."

"I'm afraid I don't know many. I work mostly up north."

"Don't worry, Love. I'm sure we'll think of some people you can ring, after dinner, and desert, and…"

"Newkirk…"

"Sorry Kinch. It's just it's been awhile since I've laid me eyes on such a beautiful bird, an'…" Kinch gave him a stare worthy of a teacher to misbehaving pupil, "um. Right, yes, down ta business."

"What are we going to do about the underground members here? We can't keep using them forever." Lebeau wondered.

"We need a way to explain the absence of three men. Any ideas?" Kinch looked at the tiny group.

"We could say that the Gestapo took them?" Lebeau suggested.

"That the Gestapo just came in the middle of the night and grabbed them? Why?"

"As Hochstetter says, the Gestapo doesn't explain why."

"Good point." Kinch nodded.

"I say we continue to think about it, and Lene and I will discuss it over dinner. Made by you of course, Lebeau."

"Of course Newkirk, your cooking would be inhumane treatment, especially for a lady."

"All right guys, enough. Remember? Colonel missing."

"Kinch I think it's a good idea. I will help with contacting the underground." Lebeau offered.

"We also need to keep Schultz from finding out anything is wrong. Lebeau, can you make enough strudel to keep him satisfied?"

"There isn't enough strudel in all of Europe for that. But I will do my best."

"Good. Now I will contact London, and the underground members around here. But I need more information before probing into German units. Lene, can you contact anyone you know around here to see what happened to the unit engaged in the fight over the compound. I believe I heard it was the U.S. 9th Army."

"I will try. But like I said, I spent most of my time working along the boarder."

"How did you end up all the way down here anyways? I mean Denmark isn't exactly next door. Well it is. What I mean is-"

"Blimey, Kinch, you're starting to sound like Carter."

"Like I told Little Louis here. It's not something I like to talk about. But I did volunteer for this mission."

"Alright then. Lebeau you get started on your cooking, Newkirk make a list of all the contacts we have in this area, and anyone in London who might be useful, and Miss Lene, come with me to radio your contacts. Let's go, people."

_______________________

That evening, Kinch, Lebeau, Newkirk, and Lene (Finder's Keepers) met back at the same spot, and with the same guard.

"Any luck with the list I gave you, Kinch?"

"Yes. There was an agent who lives near the compound in fact. He has some information that be able to help us. Which is why you and I are going out tonight after evening roll call, Newkirk, we are going to meet up with him and hear what he has to say."

"Excellente mon ami! The Colonel is as good as here!"

"Not so fast Lebeau. We don't know if it's good or bad news."

"Did London know anything about your friends?" Lene asked.

"They said the unit in question was completely disbanded. Either killed, captured, or running around lone in the woods. They haven't had any reports the Colonel or the others being found as captured, so I'm assuming that means they got away somehow."

"Let's hope so, mon ami. I can't bear to think that they…"

"Don't say it; Lebeau." Newkirk interrupted him.

"Maybe they are stuck in the German army? Like they found their way out, and got picked up by German troops?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Louis. W'o would be crazy enough ta be in two armies at once!? One is bad enough!"

"I was just thinking out loud, Peter."

"Well next time do it inside ya head."

"What's gotten into you, lately, Peter? You don't seem like your normal self." Kinch was concerned for his friend.

"Nothin'. I'm just worried 'bout the Colonel, that's all." Kinch was about to reply when a head suddenly popped down the tunnel and shouted his name.

"Kinch! We've got company!"

"Who?"

"Our favourite party pooper, and twice winner of Most Evil Kraut of the War Award." The voice replied.

*3* "Hochstetter…" Lebeau shook his head. "aller de mal en pis"

"C'est exact, Louis..." Newkirk shook his head in disbelief.

"Ok, everyone back upstairs! I'm sorry Miss Lene, but we're going to-"

"Go! I'll be fine." Kinch ushered everyone down in the tunnel back up their appropriate ladders and then dashed himself into Colonel Hogan's office and plugged in the coffee pot.

_______________________

Hochstetter marched up the steps leading to the Kommandant's office and burst in the Kommandantur.

*4* "KLINK!"

"Major Hochstetter! Es ist immer mal-"

„Schnauze Klink!"

„Schnauze..."

„KLINK! Warum habe ich Ihres Auto in der Nähe von Aachen gefunden?"

„Mein...mein Auto?"

„Ja, Klink. IHR Auto. WARUM KLINK?!"

„Heh heh. Ich hab' nicht gewusst, dass's verloren war. Aber ich bedank' mich, dass Sie es-„

„HALT DIE KLAPPE, KLINK!"

„Klappe halt'n!"

„Wissen Sie, was ich denke? Ich denke dass Hogan in Aachen war. DAS ist was ich denke!"

„Aber...wie könnt' Hogan in Aachen sein, wenn er nie-„

„Das ist mir ganz Egal, Klink!"

„Das ist Ihnen Egal."

„Wo ist Colonel Hogan?"

„In seiner Baracke. Er hat die Kehlkopfentzündung."

„Die Kehlkopfentzündung, Klink?

„Stimmt."

„Klink…wie dumm kannst du sein? ER HAT KEINE KEHLKOPFENTZÜNDUNG!"

„Tatsächlich?"

„Auf jeden Fall, Herr Komm-an-dant!"

„Schuuuultz!" Klink yelled from sitting behind his desk. A moment later, Schultz opened the door and stepped into the office.

„Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!"

„Schultz, bring mir Colonel Hogan."

„Jawohl Herr Kommandant. Das freue mich immer."

„Schultz, es ist mir Egal, wenn das dich freuet. Bring mir ihn."

„Sofort Herr Kommandant!" Schultz left the office and started to cross the compound towards Barracks Two.

_______________________

Klink looked at the rest of the group.

"Any ideas guys?" They all shook their heads. Then a moment later Lebeau spoke up.

"Where is the underground stand-in for the Colonel? If we place him in the Colonel's bed, and claim that he is really sick, maybe we can fool the krauts! We already told them that the colonel had Laryngitis, why not a fool blown cold? Or even the flu!"

"Brilliant Louis! Now all we need is a full blown epidemic and we're back in business."

"Why not, Peter? I believe that is the way the Colonel would have done it. Lebeau, go grab the double! Newkirk, prepare the sickroom. We have by my account about 60 seconds. Go!"

******

Hogan stood in front of Colonel Samuel Stevens, he felt like he was a private getting a dress down from his CO. Colonel Stevens paced back and forth in front of him.

"So you are the one caught with precious information inside his hat. Any other, rabbits you care to pull out? Or should be do the pulling for you?"

"May I explain myself before I'm found guilty of a crime I haven't committed?" Hogan rebutted.

"Oh you're already guilty of being a kraut. The question is how useful will you be before the sentence is carried out?"

"I'm not a kraut. That information you found was information I got when I infiltrated the Wehrmarkt Compound near Aachen! If you call London they will verify my identity and my mission. Tell them you have Papa Bear."

"Call London? Do you honoustly think I'm stupid enough to do that? But thank you for letting me know we have a spy in our web there."

"What? No. Look Colonel. I'm going to talk to you officer to officer. My name is Colonel Robert Erik Hogan, USAAF. By keeping me hostage here you are interfering with a VERY important mission ordered by London. London is in need of these plans, and in need of them now. They are-"

"Aww how cute. The Kraut is trying to play traitor."

"I am not a traitor! I'm an American!"

"An American? You sure look like a kraut to me."

"All right, if you are convinced I'm a kraut, call me a traitor and let me contact London!"

"Umm no. You see as I told your little friend earlier, I hate Krauts, I hate spies, and I hate traitors. Doesn't matter the country. A man should not turn his back on his people, dirty goons or not. You don't want to talk to me fine. I'm sure my friends in the Russian army will be able to persuade you."

"You're really not a nice guy are you?"

"Nope."

"Well then as a condemned man, may I have one last request?"

"This will be good for a laugh. Tell me."

"May I be sent to a POW camp in Bridgeport, Connecticut?"

******

Schultz entered Hogan's barracks just as Lebeau was finishing the last touch on creating a sickroom for the "Colonel". As Schultz entered, the first thing he noticed was half the men were in their beds.

"Ah, Schultz. It's always a pleasure to see ya. Care to play some cards. It seems no one is up to it." Newkirk put his arm around Schultz and started to walk him over to their common room table.

"Newkirk, what is going on here? Why are these men in bed? Where is Colonel Hogan?"

"Aw now Schultz. We told ya, remember? The Colonel's sick."

"Why is he sick?"

"Why does anyone get sick?"

"Neeeewkirk. Pllllease! I need to bring Colonel Hogan to Klink's office. That Major Hochstetter is here!"

"'E's in bed. I told ya, 'e's sick." As if on cue, Lebeau walked out of the Colonel's office, holding an empty bowl.

"Can I have it quiet in here? Le Colonel is trying to sleep!"

"See Schultz? Now 'ow 'bout a game of jin?" Newkirk was shuffling the cards.

"You are up to something! I want no mon-key bus-iness!" Schultz started to walk towards the door to Hogan's quarters. Lebeau jumped in front of the door, preventing him from opening it.

"No! I forbid it! *5* Le Colonel besoins tranquillité!1" Lebeau tried to block Schultz from reaching around him for the door handle.

"I'm sorry, cockroach, but _der Kommandant_ said I must bring him to-" Schultz looked at the bed, and saw that the "Colonel" was sleeping on the bottom bunk. He got a fatherly look on his face, and walked over to the sleeping man, and pulled the blankets up to his chin. Then turning around silently, and crept out of the room, and shut the door silently.

"He looks like my oldest when he had _die Grippe_. Poor Colonel Hogan. I will have my wife make some…no, I won't have my _wife_ make some soup. _I_ will make some soup for the Colonel."

"Thanks Schultzie!" Lebeau patted his back.

"But…what do I do about Major Hochstetter? And Colonel Klink! And what is wrong with the rest of these men?"

"You'll think of something Schultzie." Newkirk slipped three chocolate bars into this pocket. "You always do!"

"Just tell them that we have an epidemic here."

"Jolly jokers…you are joking, cockroach?"

"Nope. Look at the men yourself. They are very sick."

"It is contagious?"

"Very."

"O Gott in Himmel, hilf mir! _I_ better leave now. I don't want to be sick!"

"Bye Schulztie! Come back soon and see us!" Newkirk and Lebeau shouted, as Schultz scampered from the barracks.

******

More than anything Hogan wanted to sit down. He was tired, and hungry, but at least that was all. Unlike when he was captured by the Germans, the Colonel here had never touched him.

"I'll ask you again," Colonel Stevens sat behind his desk drinking coffee, "what unit were you with, what are their capabilities, and where are they currently headed."

"And I'll tell you once again," Hogan sighed exhausted, "I'm not a nazi, I wasn't assigned to any kraut unit, my name is Robert Hogan, and I am prisoner at Stalag Luft 13."

"And you just haaapened to escape, just haaapened to find a kraut uniform, and just haaapened to have plans of the troop movements near Düsseldorf?"

"Yes!. Because I am one of you! I'm the good guy!"

"You know. I will tell you a little secret. I prefer the enlisted men. Anyone above lieutenant has their own agenda. Lower ranks are just pawns in a game of chess. Do you know chess? Yes? Majors, Colonels, Generals, they all love what they do, put their heart, their soul into. Non-coms are just obeying orders. They would sell out their mother if it meant saving their skin."

"That's all fine and dandy, but-"

"It is. But back to our discussion, what kind of weapons did your unit have?"

"Let's see…none. Because I'm a POW!" He paused a moment and smiled. "Well…unless you call Klink and Schultz weapons. I won't though, they are more like secret weapons…for our side. The _Allied_ side."

"Klink? Schultz? New types of guns? Tanks? Gas?"

"No, Oberst Wilhelm Klink, and Feldwebel Georg Hans Schultz."

"Men?"

"They aren't women."

"Tell me more about them, and I might, _might_ consider not turning you over to the Russians…"

"How kind, seeing I forgot my earmuffs."

"Well Klink is our resident tank, driving through any situation without thought on where he's going and what to do when he gets there, just doing exactly what he is told. And Schultz is our resident walkie-talkie, delivering messages that we tell him."

"Aren't you just a wealth of information."

"Ok you want the truth. Fine. Here it is. My name is Robert Erik Hogan, United States Army Air Corp, rank: Colonel, serial number 0349278, current assignment, Prisoner of War, stationed at Stalag Luft 13 near Hammelburg. There. Satisfied?"

"A spy then?"

"Yes I suppose you could say that, a _Allied_ spy. By the name of Papa Bear."

"Or is it, a Axis spy by the name of Jan Baum. One who was transporting valued nazi information to his colleges?"

"It seems to me, _Colonel_, that you have already made up your mind about me. So fine. Just send me out to the main compound and I'll stay out of your hair."

"No. Since you fail to co-operate I'm turning you over to the Russians. Till then I'm gonna keep you in the cooler. Have a nice day!"

* * *

*1* „I have an Idea. We need to ask, who in this camp the Escape Committee is. Then Wala! A piece of cake/pie."

*2* „Can I help you, Colonel?"

"Hopefully. Do you know how a person can escape from here?"

"Umm. I-I don't know, Colonel. Many-many of the men, they-they don't want to esc-escape. Uh…I-Iunfortunatelycan'thelpyou. Lunchtime!"

*3* "From bad to worse."

„How, true, Louis."

*4* _(The entire conversation between Hochstetter and Klink)_

„Major Hochstetter! It is always-„

"Shut up Klink!"

"Shut up."

"KLINK! Why did I find your care near Aachen?"

"My…my car?"

"Yes, Klink. YOUR car. WHY KLINK?!"

„Heh, heh. I didn't know that it was mission. But I thank you that you-"

„SHUT UP, KLINK!"

„Shutting up!"

„Do you know what I think? I think that Hogan was in Aachen. THAT is what I think!"

"But…how could Hogan be in AAchen, when he never-"

"I don't care, Klink!"

"You don't care."

"Where is Colonel Hogan?"

"In his barracks. He has Laryngitis."

"Laryngities, Klink?"

"Yes."

"Klink…how stupid an you be? HE DOES NOT HAVE LARYNGITIES!"

"Really?"

"Of course, Herr Komm-an-dant!"

"Schuuuutlz!"

"Yes, Herr Kommandant!"

"Schultz, bring me Colonel Hogan."

"Righ away Herr Kommandant. That always pleases me."

"Schultz, I don't care if that pleases you. Bring him to me."

"Right away, Herr Kommandant!"

*5*"The Colonel needs quiet ! "

1 The Colonel needs quiet!


	6. Chapter 6

_Ok I am going to try something else for the translations. Sorry that there is so much, but I wrote this a while ago before I realized it was silly putting so much foreign language in, but I was trying to combine two series (EKvH and HH) The long passages I will place below, the shorter translating it in paragraph (I saw this done on one of your stories…I don't remember who though! So I'm borrowing the idea…and would give credit if I could…) It will appear like:_ In München steht ein Hofbräuhaus _(In Munich there is a Beer-drinking-hall) Let me know if that is too confusing._

_______________

Carter opened his eyes again. He was starting to feel a little better. Remembering he was on a boat, he tried to remember what lead him there. However, thinking was like trying to move through a wet, burlap sack. Suddenly a noise to his right caused him to turn.

*1* "Na hallo! Du bist der Feldwebel mit dem Oberst, stimmt?" The young German asked. However, Carter still was not thinking clearly, and could not make out what he said. "Wie heißt du?" He paused sensing that something was wrong, "Ist Alles in Ordnung? Ich bin Emil Hase. Na und, ich bin auf dem Arm gefall'n, als ich...was ist denn los? Du siehst verirrt." Carter still was trying to get the fog out of his brain. I couldn't seem to be able to put words together, so Hase just continued to talk, filling the silence. "Na es ist gut dass die Amerikaner uns gefund'n haben, nicht wahr? Ich hab' gehört, dass es ganz, ganz schön in der USA ist. Oder England. Ich hab' gehört, dass wir zu erst nach England fahren. Bist du schon mal in England? Ich nicht. Ich wollte...aber leider nicht. Ich hoffe, dass ich nach Amerika geschickt bin. In Amerika, ist alles wunderbar! Das ist, warum ich abgetreten habe. Ich wollte Kriegsgefangener sein. Und du? Du bist Luftwaffe, na?. Die haben's am besten. Man kann viel essen in der USA. Es gibt doch keinen Krieg da! Wie schön...ich kann nicht wart'n! Ich hab' auch gehört, dass man in Feld arbeit'n kann, mit Amerikanern! Weiss du, was das meint?! Man kann Geld bekomm'n! Und das Land sehen! Man darf auch studier'n! Ein Diplom bekomm'n!" He had a huge smile on his face, that suddenly turned to fear, and he lowered his voice. "Aber, aber, Vorsicht mit den stolzen nazis...sie töten Leute, die die denken, nicht...wie kann man es sagen...nicht gut genug nazi sind. Oder was wie das." Carter finally managed to find a way to start forming sentences again, as Hase was chatting along.

„Sorry I don't know what you're saying."

"Englisch? Bist du Engländer? Spion? Bist du Spion?!"_ (English? Are you English? Spy? Are you a spy?)_

„Sorry...I don't think I speak German. You are speaking German, right? I think I hit my head, because there's this thing on it. Do you know me? Are we friends?" Carter started to blabber on, causing now Emil Hase to be confused. He slowly answered, trying to get his vocabulary and grammar straight.

"You are English, yes? Vhy vear you Jerman ooniform? Are you _Spion_? Ich hoffe dass du Spion bist, kein Panik, ich sag' 's Niemand. _(I hope you are a spy, don't worry, I won't tell anyone) _I vant to sank you für trying to free mein land. Und I am happy to be by Amerikanern captured." Hase walked over and placed his good arm on Carter's shoulder. At that moment, Nurse Rogers entered.

"Ah, how is my boy doing, I see you are awake. Good. But first, let us tend your friend here. What happened? I heard you landed on your arm?" Rogers started to send to the sprained arm.

"I, I fell vhen, vhen die Schiffe…" He made a gesture when his hand of the ship tilting. The nurse nodded and smiled, understanding his point.

"Don't worry, we will be in port very, very soon." She then led him out, and returned to Carter.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better?"

"Good, we need to talk." She pulled up a chair beside Carter's bed. "You speak English very well."

"Thank you?"

"Where did you learn English?"

"I dunno. I can't remember anything. I don't know even where I am. Or what my name is. That boy had a name. Do I have a name? I assume I do, because I think everyone should have a name. You have a name. But I can't seem to remember mine, or even why I am here. Or-"

"Your name is Feldwebel Axel Jung. You were captured three days ago, in a fight near the city of Aachen. You were badly injured, with a head injury, and now you are on a ship bound for England, where you will be treated until such time as you are seen fit to be transferred to a prisoner of war camp."

"I think I remember being captured…" Carter thought hard, and could almost remember balling out of his airplane and running into a nazi patrol.

"Good, then your memory is coming back. Do you know of someone named Felix?"

"Felix…Felix…the name is familiar."

"What about the name Newkirk?"

"Newkirk? I don't think so? Should I know this name? Is this name important?"

"It is alright. Your memory will return as your brain heals. Now we need to get you ready to be transferred to a hospital in England. We shall be arriving in port quite soon."

* * * * * *

Schultz had left no more than 30 seconds before Kinch sprang into action with the second part of their plan.

"Ok, the rest of you prepare for plan B, in case Newkirk and I don't succeed."

"I still don't see why it's gotta be me. Why can't Lebeau 'ere do it?"

"Because mon Ami, you are our best impersonator."

"Thanks Lebeau…that makes me feel much better."

"À tout moment1." Lebeau smiled and went to watch the barracks door as Kinch and Newkirk raced down the latter towards the radio.

In Klink's office, Schultz had just arrived.

"Schuuuultz! Wo ist Colonel Hogan?" (_Where is Colonel Hogan?)_

"Er ist krank, Herr Kommandant!" _(He is sick)_

„Krank, Schultz. Er ist nicht krank! _(Sick, Schultz. He is not sick!) _" Hochstetter shouted. Right on cue, Klink's telephone rank. Helga's voice could be heard.

"Herr Kommandans, est ist General Meschtzger. Er mag mist Major Hochschstester schprechen. _(Herr Kommandans, eth ith General Meschtzger. He wanth to speak wiss Major Hochshether)_"

„Danke Fräulein Helga. Für Ihnen, Oberst Metzger. _(Thank you, Fräulein Helga. For you, Colonel Metzger)_" Klink told Hochstetter.

„Gibt mir das! _(Give me that!)"_ He snatched the phone away from Klink. "Hallo? Hochstetter hier."

_______________

It was now or never, Kinch bravely started with his best German impersonation.

"Herr Major Hochstetter. Hier ist Leutnant Koch. Herr General Metzger mag mit Ihnen sprechen. _(Here is Lieutenant Koch. Herr General Metzger wants to speak with you.)_"

„Das weiss ich schon! _(I already know that!)_" Hochstetter screamed into the telephone, nearly deafening Kinch.

"Ein Moment, bitte. _(One moment, please)_" Kinch watched as Newkirk, clearly terrified took a deep breath.

"M-m-major Hoch-hochstetter? Hier ist G-general Metzger. W-w-wo bist du? Ich bin i-i-in Berlin. Warum bist du n-n-nicht hier mich zu-zu-zugrüßen, na? _(M-m-major Hoch-hochstetter. Here is G-general Metzger. W-w-where are you? __I am i-i-in Berlin. Why are you n-n-not here to g-g-greet me, hm?)"_

„Herr General, ich hätte keine- _(Herr General, I had no idea-)_„

„N-n-näturlich h-hättest du keine! Du h-h-hast eine Stunde n-nach Berlin zuf-fahren! EIN-N-NE STUNDE! _(Of c-c-course you h-had no idea! You h-h-have one hour t-to get t-to Berlin!)_" Newkirk smiled and tossed the phone back to Kinch.

„Der General wartet auf Sie. Wir sind in dem Reichstag mit dem führer. _(The General waits for you. We are in the Reichstag with the führer)_"

„Der führer! Ich komme sofort...Moment, warum störtet er? Niemand in Deutschland ist General und störet. _(The führer! __I am coming immediately...moment, why did he stutter. No one in Germany is a General and stutters)_"

„Zu viel Trinken. Heil Fahren! _(To much drinking. Hail Driving!)_"

„Heil Fahren..." Hochstetter hung up the phone. Kinch hung up their phone tap and looked at Newkirk.

_______________

"See? That wasn't so bad."

"Bloody easy for you ta say, mate. You weren't the one tryin' ta convince Hochstetter ya were a kraut general."

"Well I think you did it. Even with your stutter. If I may ask, why do you only stutter in German?"

"Why does Helga only have a lisp in German?"

"I guess the same reason Klink claim's he's Prussian, lives in Leipzig, and yet speaks with a Saxon accent."

"Exactly. Now, if ya don't mind, I need a cigarette."

_______________

Hochstetter hung up the phone confused.

"Alles in Ordnung, Major Hochstetter? _(Everything okay, Major Hochstetter?)_"

„NEIN KLINK! ALLES IST NICHT IN ORDUNG! _(NO KLINK! EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY!)_"

„Natürlich. Nichts ist in Ordnung. _(Of course. Nothing is okay.)_"

„Halt die Schnauze Klink! _(Shut up, Klink!)_"

„Schnauze halten! (_Shutting__ up!)_"

„Ich muss nach Berlin fahren. Aber, wenn ich zurückkomme... _(I need to drive to Berlin. But when I come back…)_"

„Das freuet mich immer. ‚N schönen Tag. _(I look forward to your return. Have a good day)_"

„BAH!" Hochstetter slammed the door.

"Er hat "Heil Kräuter" noch mal vergessen. _(He forgot to say, „Hail Vegetables again)_" Schultz shook his head.

„Wissen Sie, Schultz. Ich glaub' dass er sich mir nicht gefällt. _(You know, Schultz. I think he doesn't like me much.)_"

„Nicht sehr freundlich, gell? _(Not too friendly, eh?)_"

* * * * * *

Olsen laid on his bunk and starred at the ceiling. He couldn't help feeling panicked since they took Colonel Hogan for questioning about the troop plans. He also couldn't believe that everyone he talked to had an excuse about not knowing how to escape. It turned out that most of the men wanted to be captured. They wanted to be POWs, by the Americans. _Completely opposite of us. I never wanted to be a POW. But I guess I'm like them in a way, lucky to be a prisoner of a country that at least pretends to obey the Geneva Convention._ He sighed. _I can't even pretend to imagine what is going on with the guys fighting in the Pacific. He shuddered. Probably the same as the Germans being held by the Russians and vice versa…_He was at a loss on how to escape. _Maybe when they take us tomorrow…I can jump out of the truck? Maybe one of the other officers will believe me. Or at least take me headquarters in London? _He rolled over. _This is getting to be a complicated war. _Then smiling to himself, he added, _I wonder if I'll still get red cross packages in England…?_

* * * * * *

Schultz sauntered out of Klink's office and watched as Hochstetter drove off. _Good riddance_. He thought to himself. Then looking down at his watch, he realized it was time for evening roll call. Klink started to turn back towards his office, having watched with Schultz Hochstetter speed off into the night.

"Herr Kommandant? "

"Was Schultz? _(What Schultz)_"

"Was soll ich bei Appell tun. Die Männer aus Baracke Zwo... _(What should I do for roll call. __The men from Baracks two…)_"

„Stellen Sie sie unter Quarantäne. _(Put hem under __Quarantine__.)_"

„Und wie zahl' ich sie? Wenn ich neben den Männern bin, dann bin ich krank, gell? _(And how should I count them? When I am next to the men, then I will get sick, right?)_"

„Mir Egal Schultz. Ich bin in mein'm Büro. Aber jetzt mach'n Sie den Appell. _(I don't care, Schultz. I am in my office. But do roll call now.)_"

„Auf jeden Fall, Herr Kommandant! Roll Call! Raus, raus, raus! Roll Call!"

_______________

„Roll call, Kinch! What should we do?" Lebeau looked around at the confused faces of the men in Barracks two.

"Panic." Was all Kinch could reply.

_______________

Schultz walked over and opened the door to Barracks Two. Inside all the men were in bed. Schultz held his breath and counted each head. When he finished he stood in the doorway and let out his breath, taking another deep breath, he told the men:

"This barracks is under quarantine. Anyone who tries to leave will be shot for Germ Warfare by order of the Kommandant." And then he quickly added, "feel better, ja?"

* * * * * *

Kinch and Newkirk silently crept out of the tunnel shortly after lights out, leaving Lebeau in charge of taking care of Schultz and any other emergencies that shouldn't pop up, but always seem to, back at camp. The goal of the night was to meet up with an agent who witnessed the fighting between the Allies and the Axis near the city of Aachen. The agent would meet them in a hotel in Frankfurt A.M.

"Um, Kinch," Newkirk whispered as the finished crawling out of the emergency tunnel, "I don' wanna seem like I'm unsupportive of the mission, but, just 'ow we getting' ta Frankfurt. Last I checked, it was over 100 bleedin' kilometres away."

"Well how do normal people travel, Newkirk?"

"Please don't tell me we're takin' a train, I've 'eard bad things 'appen ta those things. Though, I also 'eard the Berlin Express is nice…"

"People also drive in cars, and ride bikes-"

"Please tell me, we aren't cycling there!"

"Only part of the way, just till we meet up with the agent who has the car."

"You're bloody tellin' me we're cycling 'alf the way ta Frankfurt!"

"Not half, only 10 miles or so, not far."

"As long as it's not a cycle build for two, cause I'm not marryin' ya!" He paused, "no offence."

"None taken." Kinch grinned. "Besides, you can't cook."

Kinch's legs were beginning to feel like lead pistons. Going in the same motion again, and again, and again. What he wouldn't give to have tires made out of rubber instead of wooden wheels. Newkirk felt the same way, and Kinch could hear him panting next to them. Riding a bicycle with wooden wheels was a lot harder than it sounded.

_______________

"'Ow much further, Kinch?"

"Uhh…maybe half an hour?"

"'Alf an hour. Bloody brilliant."

Kinch and Newkirk finally wobbled their tired legs towards the back part of a house. Looking at it from the outside, they could see two candles sitting on opposite ends of the window frame towards the back end of the house. Kinch nodded at Newkirk, that was their signal.

Dropping the cycles into some bushes, they wobbled their exhausted legs towards the back door. Dropping down on his knee, Kinch grabbed the keys to the car which were hidden under a rock near the door. Then nodding to Newkirk, they raced to the car sitting near the front of the house. As they started it up and backed out of the gravel pit, a man hidden in the shadows looked out from his bedroom window. Neither he nor Kinch and Newkirk knew who the other was, as it was safer for both parties, in case the other was captured by the gestapo. The man only hopped that the underground members would survive and succeed in their mission, and that he would get his car back quickly and in one piece.

Kinch stretched out his legs and tried to relax, as Newkirk drove along the bombed out roads. Looking outside, he could see shadows of the countryside. In the still of the night, it looked beautiful.

"Hard to imagine that a country that looks so beautiful at night, could be the same country that has caused so much destruction."

"W'at's that mate?" Newkirk chanced a glance over at Kinch.

"Oh, I was just saying how beautiful it looks at night."

"Oh yeah, reminds me of southern England."

"Really?"

"Yeah, me mates and me went one summer on a fishin' trip ta Dover."

"I didn't know you fished."

"Yep."

"Oh." The two of them drove in silence for about five minutes.

"'Ave you been ta England before the war, Kinch?"

"No, but my father was there before the war. He served in the 369th Infantry Regiment during the Great War."

"I didn't know ya father was in the military."

"Yep."

"Oh." Once again they drove in silence.

"Have you ever been to the states, Newkirk?"

"No. Maybe one day."

"Oh." Again, they drove in silence.

"W'at do ya wanna do after the war, Kinch?"

"Not sure. I think drink a large glass of cold milk, take a hot bath, and sleep for a year. After that, I'm not sure. What about you?"

"Dunno."

"Oh." They continued to drive in silence, until Newkirk saw a roadblock up ahead.

"Oh bloody 'ell. Kinch, roadblock."

"Ok, let's get ready for them." Newkirk slowed the car, as Kinch crawled into the back seat. Then putting on the kraut jacket he brought with him, he slowed down and stopped at the roadblock.

"'Abend. Ihre Ausweiß bitte, Herr Hauptmann. _(Evening. Your identity papers, please captian)_" Newkirk handed over the papers, and said nothing.

"Na, was haben Sie im Rücken? _(What do you have in the back?)_"

„Kriegsge-gefangener. _(P-prisoner)_"

„Ach so! In Ordnung. Schönen Fahren _(Oh! Everything ok. Have a good trip.)_"

„D-danke." Newkirk let out his breath as they left the checkpoint.

"Good job Newkirk! I didn't know you could speak kraut so clearly."

"Neither did I."

_______________

The two arrived 20 minutes later outside the hotel in Frankfurt AM. Keeping the guise of German and prisoner, they entered the hotel, and booked a room. As they were signing in, Newkirk managed to swipe the page with all the names and rooms on it. As the hotel receptionist had his back turned, Newkirk scanned the page for their agent, they found his name in room 201. Newkirk then placed the sheet back, without the man noticing it, and they preceded to room 201, knocking three times, three times, and waiting five seconds in-between each set of knocks. A moment later, an older man opened the door.

"Na was kann ich für Sie tun? _(Can I help you?)_"

„Wir ha-haben ein-en Papa Bär ver-lo-loren. Könnten Sie bi-bitte uns he-helfen? _(We ha-have l-lost a-papa Bear. Could you pl-please h-help us?) _" Newkirk stuttered along. The Agent cocked his head slightly to the right, unsure of the situation, and then using a completely straight face answered:

"Gerne. Aber nur wenn Sie Klavier im Kühlschrank spielen. _(Gladly. But only when you play the piano in the ice box.)_" He widened into a grin, and motioned for the two men to come inside. Once the door was closed he switched to English. "You are Papa Bear?"

"We work for 'im." Newkirk answered as he untied Kinch's hands.

"Uh-hu." The Agent looked at them unconvinced, but then deciding that a man with dark skin and a man with an English accent weren't likely to be gestapo or ss, he decided to trust them. "You are looking for information about what happened near Aachen?"

"That's right," Kinch massaged his wrists, "we have three of our agents missing, they were "borrowing" information from the Wehrmarkt compound, and have been missing for nearly four days." He turned to Newkirk, "next time we play kraut and prisoner, you been the prisoner. You tie the rope too tight."

"Sorry mate, but it's gotta look convincing."

"Well I do have some information for you. I am myself a British agent. I was planted in the Wehrmarkt unit in question. I was captured with nearly all the men in German uniform. There were very few casualties, since thankfully most of the young men wish to be captured, unlike earlier in the war. Well caught by the Americans or British." He laughed before becoming serious again. "Their side knows it's nearly over. And there are fewer and fewer boys with the urge to kill our side."

"If I may ask, how did you get away?" Kinch asked.

"I was able to prove my loyalty. And London informed the U.S. 9th Army of my involvement. So after I was captured, they managed to smuggle me out, which is how I got here." Kinch and Newkirk looked at each other. So if Colonel Hogan and the others weren't captured, where were they?

"Did you know what happened to a Colonel, Captain, and Sergeant who showed up in kraut uniform, four days ago?"

"I remember a boy talking about them, a Emil Hase. He is a young German boy who has no heart for his country's war, and has helped me quite a bit. I understand they drove off shortly before the place exploded. Thankfully both of us, Emil and myself, were in the right place at the right time not to be killed."

"Anything else?"

"Well as I was being "integrated", or rather being served some cold tea and a few biscuits, I heard a captain mention that there were two Germans who spoke perfect English. That could be your men."

"That must be the Colonel!" Newkirk rejoiced. "Where were they bein' taken?"

"Umm." The agent thought for a moment, "I believe it was to a transfer station in France, before bein' shipped off ta England."

"I suppose it's possible they are still there. But why? I mean it's fairly obvious that they aren't krauts."

"Well if they aren't there, then where?" Newkirk wondered aloud. Then he added quietly, "Killed?"

"No I don't think so. I believe that the English-speaking men in question that the captain mentioned are your men."

"You said he only mentioned two, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened to number three?"

* * *

*1* ""Hey hello! You are the sergeant from that Colonel, right? What's your name? Is everything okay? I am Emil Hase. And well, I fell on my arm, as I…what's wrong? You look confused. It's good that the Americans found us, huh? I heard that it is really, really nice in the US. Or England. I heard that we are going first to England. Have you been to England? I haven't. I wanted…but, sadly not. I hope that I am sent to America. In American everything is great! That is why I surrendered. I wanted to be a prisoner. And you? You are Luftwaffe, right? They have it the best. You can eat so much in the US. There is no war there! How nice…I can't wait! I also heard, that you can work in the fields, with the Americans! Do you know that that means?! You can earn money! And see the country! You are also allowed to study! Get a degree! But, but be careful with the proud Nazis…they kill people, who they think aren't…how do you say it…not nazi enough. Or something like that."

*2* Anytime


	7. Chapter 7

Number Three had just landed in England. He was wheeled off the ship with the other casualties, and headed towards a nearby hospital for further treatment. Carter still couldn't remember anything, though his memory was coming back very slowly. He could remember bits and pieces of his childhood, and faces of people he knew, but not their names, except for these tid bits, the majority was still blank. He could not remember the accident, or even his own name. Though the name Axel Jung was familiar, _so that must be my name. But it somehow doesn't sound right. And who is Newkirk and Felix? The names are familiar, but why can't I remember their faces?_

* * * * * *

Olsen woke up to the sound of roll call. He forgot momentarily where he was, and as he slid out of the make-shift bunk, was confused when he didn't see the normal members of his barracks. _That's right_, he remembered, _I'm through Alice's looking glass. The lives of others indeed._ He shook his head, pulled on his boots and joined the others in a line up outside of the large tent.

As the count finished, a lieutenant stepped forward to make an announcement.

"I want the following to step forward." A corporal to his right translated.

"Schmidt, Karl, Hauptmann; Anderson, Hans, Leutnant; Müller, Georg, Leutnant, Bauer, Johann, Hauptmann..." and the list went on. Olsen's heart jumped into his throat as the list progressed. He had an inkling of what was going on, and not sure how he wanted it to play out. Then he heard something that made him stop breathing, "Herrmann, Viktor, Oberst, " after that he stopped listening to the list. As the lieutenant finished, he added. "Those whose names I just called, will report to the gate," he pointed to his left, "in fifteen minutes. You are being shipped to the United States. There you will be transferred to a permanent POW camp. We will abide by the Geneva Convention, and as officers you have specific rights." He held up a copy of the Geneva Convention. "Each of you will receive a copy of your rights stated under the Geneva Convention. And if you have any questions or concerns, there will be a Senior POW Officer, or as our boys call 'em a Head Kriegy, and can bring your concerns and questions to him. Now Dismissed! _Wegtreten_!"

* * * * * *

Hogan paced back and forth in the cooler. His mind ached from trying to figure a way out of his present situation. He wished he knew someone personally on the Russian side. Someone who could prove his identity. Perhaps a woman, a young attractive woman…alas the only Russian he knew was Vladimir Minsk. Hogan sat down and sighed at the thought of his old member. He still wasn't sure what happened to him, and that thought ate away at his soul. Just one day a truck came and took him away. Hogan was never able to stop it, or find out where it went. Suddenly an idea came to him. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small slip of paper and a pen. Then began to write:

*1* ... - .-. ..- -.. . .-.. / -.- .. -. --. / ..--.. / -.-. .- .--. - ..- .-. . .-. / ..--.. / ..- ... / - .... / ..--.. / ..-. .-. .- -. -.-. . / ..--.. / .--. . -. ... . .-. / . -. / . ... .--. .. --- -. / ..--.. / .--. .- .--. .- / -... . .- .-. / ..--.. /. Satisfied that Lebeau would at least get the idea of what he was trying to say though his questionable French, he searched his pockets for something to barter with. He pulled the metals off his chest, and also took off his watching, praying that he wouldn't have to give that up. Taking a deep breath he called the guard to him. Pleased that it wasn't the Shoot First Ask Questions Later guard.

"Yeah what?" The guard, who looked to be about 18 asked him.

"I need a favour."

"Oh?"

"Can you please send this message on this frequency?" He pointed the frequency he had written on the paper.

"What's it to me?"

"Wanna bring some true kraut metals to your friends back home?" Hogan showed him the metals from his uniform. The guard rubbed his chin.

"I dunno. I don't wanna get in any trouble."

"Trust me. You'll be helping the war end sooner that way. And helping the allied effort."

"Well…" He looked at the paper. "Hey that ain't written in kraut. It's written in what, Italian or somethin'." Hogan rolled his eyes. The guard continued. "You havin' me contact your friends in the Italian army, ain't ya?"

"No, I'm havin you contact people in the underground. Because I am in fact an underground member, and I need you to tell my people I'm ok."

"Oh." That confused the guard into silence. "You ain't tellin' them where ya at, are ya?"

"No, because I don't even know that."

"Oh. Well, gimme the metals, and we'll see. I ain't no traitor." Hogan handed the guard the metals.

"I know you're no traitor. By sending this message you'll prove it, private. Do me a favour, send it until you get a response. Trying between the hours of 0700 and 1900 hours. If you don't hear anything, try after 2200 and until 0500. Do you understand?" Hogan was trying to sound far from pleading. The guard was bewildered and merely nodded his head.

"Good. I look forward to hearing their response."

* * * * *

Badeau sat at the radio mending his socks. He sighed audibly as he finished yet another pair. What I wouldn't give for socks that didn't need mending. Picking up the next set he heard the radio come alive. A message was coming in. Badeau listened to it, and exclaimed with joy! It was the colonel! As he composed a reply, answering in French, everyone who was in the tunnel came running.

"What is it, Henri?! Good news?!" One of the men who was down in the tunnel asked him.

"Good news? Good news?! Tu veux rire! C'est merveilleux nouvelle! _(Are you kidding! It's wonderful news!)_ " Badeau ran off to find Lebeau and Kinch.

Lebeau was sitting with Kinch inside Baracke two at their common room table. Both of them had run into a block trying to figure out what to do about missing members. Lebeau at the table, as if it was going to give him answers. He was so depressed that he didn't even feel like cooking. He knew that sooner or later someone would have to tell Klink that Stalag Luft 13 had had it's first escape. And everyone in camp would know what that would mean. Lebeau shook his head. _No more missions, no more guard bribing, no more Schultz, no more Klink, no more helping down Allied flyers, and worst of all, no more watching Klink's housekeeper, Kalinke *A1*, clean his office. Personally_, thought Lebeau, _that would be the worst!_

Lebeau was just contemplating talking a walk, when he remembered their barracks was still under quarantine, thanks to their little "outbreak." Sitting back down, he heard the tunnel door fly open, and Badeau scamper up the stairs!

"Tu as pressé, Badeau _(You're in a hurry, Badeau)_." Lebeau commented as Badeau gulped down a few large breaths in order to regain his ability to talk.

"O-oui. Bonne-Bonne Nouvelle! _(Y-yes. Good-good news!)_" Badeau thrust the message into Lebeau's hands. Lebeau glanced down at the paper and then jumped up, hitting both his knees on the table, and let out a few choice words in French. Kinch looked over as the message Lebeau was holding fluttered down from where he let go of it. Kinch's eyes grew five times their normal size.

"Holy cats! Hol-ly cats!! He's alive! He's alive! The Colonel is alive!" Kinch yelled at the top of his lungs, making the whole of barracks two erupt in cheers! As the room quieted down after a few minutes, a voice somewhere to the left of Kinch asked:

"Where is he? When is he comin' home?" The barracks immediately became deathly silent. Kinch broke it in a soft voice.

"He's been captured. By the Americans no less." That got both Kinch and the barracks to give a small chuckle. "He's in France. But I doubt for very long. However maybe spending some time in France will help improve his French." Kinch looked over at Lebeau and Badeau who both grinned.

"So what are we gonna do?" Another voice, this time to the right of Kinch spoke up, once again leaving the room quiet.

"Does anyone know anything about the…" Kinch looked down at the message, "U.S. 9th Army?" Kinch looked at each face, all of them shook "no". Kinch sighed. "Well I'll get on the horn to London and see what I can dig up. Maybe by some miracle we can get the Colonel outta there, and end this "epidemic" we are all suffering."

* * *

Kinch couldn't climb down the stairs fast enough. He raced over to his radio and cranked it up.

"Mama Bear this is Goldilocks, come-in Mama Bear, over."

"Goldilocks, this is Mama Bear, over."

"Mama Bear, we have a Papa Bear sized emergency. Repeat: Papa Bear sized emergency. Yankee Doodle locked up Papa Bear and two cubs in tower as Big Bad Wolf. Over." Kinch explained over the radio. There was a moment of silence before the female voice on the other side continued.

"Please repeat Goldilocks. Over."

"I repeat: Yankee Doodle locked Papa Bear with two cubs in tower as Big Bad Wolf. Over" Kinch explained again. Again there was a moment of silence.

"Goldilocks. I have message as: Papa Bear and two cubs in Yankee Doodle's tower, locked up as Big Bad Wolf? Please confirm. Over."

"Correct, Mama Bear. Over."

"What is the current location of Papa Bear? Over."

"U.S. 9th. Uniform Sierra niner. Over." There was another pause before London answered.

"Please confirm. Uniform Sierra niner? Over."

"Correct Mama Bear. Over."

"Goldilocks, please send all information regarding Papa Bear and two cubs. Over."

"Roger Goldilocks. Will send all information. Will send in five minutes. Goldilocks out." Kinch hung up the set.

"Ya know, Kinch," Newkirk spoke up, having arrived at the radio shortly after Kinch started his call, "ya really should think of doin' that for a livin'."

"Oh yeah, I can just see myself answering Goldilocks every time someone wants to make a call."

"Ya could change the name."

"Sure. I could call myself something exciting, like, Sparky."

"Well I was just tryin' ta give ya a job, you know when the next war rolls around."

"Tell you what Newkirk, when the next war comes, I'll call myself Sparky and that way you can radio me, and it will just like old times. You'll be Goldilocks, and I'll be Sparky." Both Kinch and Newkirk grinned. "Now if you don't mind, _Sparky_ here has some information to relay." The he added smiling, "I should start chargin' for these…"

* * * * *

Klink paced in his office. Kalinke would be in soon to clean. He had delayed in ringing General Burkhalter about the epidemic on his hands, since it had thus far stayed contained in Hogan's barracks. Although he didn't want to admit it, he had missed Hogan annoying him. Somehow when he was around, Klink was able to get more work done, more decisions made. And they always seemed somehow easier. Klink sat down at his desk and sighed. He wasn't sure if ringing _Der Dicke *2* _was the right idea, but if he didn't Burkhalter might get upset for not informing him, and send him to Siberia *A2*. That was a thought that chilled Klink, just like he was already standing in a meter of snow. Summing up his courage he rang _Der Dicke Burkhalter_ about the epidemic on his hands.

* * * * *

It would be another 24 hours before Kinch or the others heard anything about Hogan, Carter, and Olsen. Another 24 hours for the men to start getting on each others nerves. Another 24 hours that their underground members were still stuck at Stalag 13. Another 24 hours of complaining, waiting, and feeling useless.

Kinch was finishing his book about Houdini, when the radio demanded his attention. He quickly jumped into action taking down the message, before letting out a "woohoo!" and running back up the ladder. Bursting into the room, he interrupted the men who had all retreated to their respective bunks, apparently sick of being trapped for five days in the same barracks, with no ability to get outside. Cabin Fever was taking its toll.

"They found them! They found them!" Kinch nearly screamed. The barracks erupted with everyone talking at once.

"Where are they?"

"Are they ok?"

"Are they bringing us back good old American food?"

"John!"

"What?! I'm hungry!" Once Kinch got everyone to settle down he delivered what London had said.

"They're fine. Carter is in a hospital in England-"

"What! 'E went ta England without me! That's me home! _I_ was gonna take 'im ta…" Newkirk stood up.

"Yes, as I was saying, Peter, Carter is in a hospital in England, Olsen is currently on a ship to the States, and-" The barracks erupted again, this time by all the Americans who wished it was them on their way home.

"AND!" Kinch spoke up above the crowd, "The Colonel is MIA." The barracks immediately got quiet.

"Sacré Chat…" Lebeau whispered.

"London knows he was captured with the others, but after that, the Colonel in charge of holding him, seems to have just forgotten where he placed him." Kinch finished telling the men the information.

"How do you just "misplace" a person?" An angry voice spoke up.

"I dunno," Kinch said honoustly, "but I believe that the colonel will make it back somehow. What we need to work on is getting Olsen and Carter back safely. London will be shipping Carter back tomorrow, to our humble little castle in the woods. Olsen will be coming two days later, since they gotta get him off that nice little cruise ship of his."

"He better bring us some food back in a doggy bag!" Another voice laughed, causing the other men to join in.

"Alright, Alright. As for the colonel? Well, Lebeau, I want you to make contact with members in the French underground, see if they can't find out what happened."

"Oui, Kinch. I will do that right away."

"But that doesn't make sense. It was the colonel who sent just us a message, right? So wouldn't he be where he says he was in the message?" Someone asked. Everyone else spoke up in agreement.

"You would think so… but right now we need to concentrate on getting Carter and Olsen back, before we tackle that mystery. Now while Lebeau is off contacting the French underground I need the help of the rest of you men. I will need volunteers to go out and get Carter and Olsen when the time comes. And I will need all of you to help keep the guards and Klink happy till our little family is back together."

* * * * *

Carter was leaning on his elbows starring out the window from his hospital room. He had never seen a more beautiful sight…or so he believed, his memory was still suffering. Outside his window was a view of a river, and small houses, and fields of grass. The nurse had told him that he was in England, and Carter couldn't figure out why that name was so significant, but he knew he should be happy that he was here. _Maybe I used to spend time here?_ He wondered. _But that doesn't seem right, England and Germany are enemies,… and I was told I'm German…but that doesn't seem right either! And that name Newkirk. Somehow it also familiar. I feel like he should be here in England with me…maybe? But I know deep down that they go together somehow, like a pair…_

Nurse Rogers entered with a smile.

"Hello there! The doctor has certified you well enough to join the rest of your unit. If you feel ill though, come back and we will see what we can do."

"Thanks. Where is my unit I was captured with?"

"They are currently in a transfer camp. I believe you are all being transferred west. But I am not sure. You will find out soon enough. Have your friends see if they can help you with your memory."

"Ok. Is the boy who came in here yesterday okay?"

"Oh yes. He has been waiting for you to get well. He is outside the door in fact. I will fetch him, and then we will have you on your way." The nurse helped him get ready. Carter felt a little unsure on his feet, but brightened when he saw the boy from the day before. The boy helped steady him and helped him walk out of the hospital and towards a waiting vehicle. The guards walked next to them, helping Carter every once in a while when his feet started to give way. Helping both Carter and the boy into the vehicle, the guards took their places next to them in the back. In all there were three wounded and two guards. As they started to pull away, a small boy, around nine throw a rock which hit the boot. Causing one of the guards to stand up.

"Bloody Jerries! I 'ate you! I really 'ate you! You killed me mum! I 'ate you!" The boy yelled throwing another rock, this time it landed at Carter's feet.

"Hey! No throwing rocks!" The guard yelled, as the lorry turned, the guard sat back down. Carter starred at the rock. He could feel his mind working. Starring at the rock something was coming back to him. A little boy, there was a little boy. He also threw a rock at Carter. Exactly like what just happened. Carter was sitting climbing into a truck. The boy threw the rock, it hit him. He yelled something, and the men pushed Carter into the truck, laughing. What did the kid say? He sounded angry. _What a strange thing to remember_, Carter thought. He picked up the rock and placed it in his pocket. Maybe it would help him remember more things.

* * *

_*1* Strudel King. capturer. US 9th. __France. penser en espion. Papa Bear. _

_*2* The Fat (One), In EKvH Burkhalter is known as The Fat (One)_

_*A1* Kalinke is Klink's housekeeper in EKvH, and she cleans the office naked _

_*A2* During WWI German POWs were sent to Siberia when taken captive by the Russians, so in the German version the Eastern Front is known as Siberia _


	8. Chapter 8

Lene was sitting in the corner of the tunnel. She was going to go crazy if she didn't do something productive soon. Sitting down a borrowed book from Kinch, All Quiet on the Western Front, she stood up and walked towards the Radio room. Rounding the corner she nearly ran into Lebeau.

"Oh sorry!" She exclaimed.

"No need. I was coming to get you." Lebeau replied.

"Oh?"

"Yes I was wondering if you could help me track down some of our agents in France. Le Colònel is still missing."

"Does that mean you found the rest of your men?"

"Yes. The little cheapskates are lounging around in England, and a boat to America!" Lebeau's tone of voice caused Lene to smile.

"Well if you have ever had food in England, you know that they probably wish they were back here, eating yours."

"True. That will teach them to escape to England without me." Both of them grinned.

"Yes I will help you. I know only a few members there, but I have a contact with a man in the British Army fighting near there."

"May I ask who?"

"His name is Group Leader Crittendon. A friend of my father's. A very nice man…just…don't put him in charge of anything."

"I don't understand."

"Hope you never do." She smiled and rolled her eyes remembering some of the things her father's friend has done. "Now let's see if we can track down your Colonel so I can finally get out of this tunnel, deliver the information, and get away from all these handsome young men."

"You'll miss us."

"I won't know till I leave!" Laughing, Lene and Lebeau headed towards Kinch's radio.

* * * * *

Olsen was living the life of luxury. He was eating three square meals a day, sleeping in a soft bed, and for the most part getting to do what he wanted. He had never had such a good time in his life! _I love the Americans! If all I had to do was get captured by my own side to end up living like a king, I would have done is sooner!_ He laughed to himself.

Sitting down at a table, he pulled out a piece of paper from the kit the Americans had given his when they boarded the ship. She starred down at the piece of paper and tried to think of what to write.

_Dear Mom, It's your son here. The one fighting the Germans, remember me? Well I have some news for you that may shock your socks off. I've been captured. I know you know this already, but well…I've been captured _again_…by the Americans. No, no I'm no traitor. Far from it. But well, one thing led to other, and well, I'm currently on a steamer home. It's not quite how I planned it, but at least I'll be close by! And maybe you can come visit me. I'm not sure where I'll be held yet, but I'm sure the Red Cross will notify you...I think. If not I'll notify you of where I am. Unless you can finally prove to them that I'm not a German colonel; (though I must admit the promotion has been nice). And well what I mean by that is, I was caught in kraut uniform…that of a colonel, and, um…_

Olsen looked down at what he had written. It sounded ridiculous. Sighing, he crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Looking around the room of the library, he noticed a door he hadn't seen before. Getting up he crossed over to it and opened it. There was a staircase. Looking up, it seemed that it lead up to the wireless. He silently crept up the stairs, and seeing there was no one around manning it, he jotted a note and stuck it in the pile of telegrams to be sent out. He rushed back down the stairs, and headed to the kitchen. He might as well make the best of an unusual situation!

* * * * *

Hogan knew he was being unjustly held in the cooler. The night guard knew it as well. However speaking out would mean trouble for the poor guard, since he was guarding a kraut, a dirty, rotten kraut, their enemy. Yet, he felt sorry for man being held against his will, when the Geneva Convention was deliberately created to avoid this injustice. The guard felt for this poor man. Like him, he was simply a pawn, _not like those generals who create wars_. The guard sighed, it pained him to see anyone, _anyone_ locked up, because if their rolls were reversed, how would he feel?

The guard paced outside of Hogan's door and chanced a glance inside. Seeing the man was awake, he paused momentary outside the door and throw in a tiny sack, about the size of his fist. Then he continued walking.

* * *

Hogan starred at the ceiling. He had always wanted to visit Russia, see Moscow and Stalingrad, but this is not exactly the way he pictured it. He could hear the guard pacing the door outside his window, and there was a tiny, PLOP, of something hitting the ground. Sitting up he walked over and there was a small sack. Opening it he found a note written in French, and two pieces of buttered toast. Hogan nearly leaped with joy. He read the message ten times before he could sit back down and eat the bread.

"À tout à l'heure! _(See you soon !)_" _Soon! But…how soon ?_ The last thing Hogan wanted was for his men to arrive and he was already shipped off to some POW camp in Siberia. It was one thing to joke to Klink and Schultz about it, to get them to play into his hands, but to actually, _actually_ be sent…the idea was terrifying._ And if I had to spend another few nights here thinking about it, I'm going to be a candidate for the funny farm when they arrive._ Hogan sat down on the bunk again. He was just envisioning his future under 10 feet of snow when he heard voices echoing down the hall.

"-yes, all of these are to be shipped to England and then to America." The voice of Colonel SS could be heard. It caused the hairs of Hogan's neck to stand up. He never thought his side could be so cruel and unjust, or that he could loath someone so much.

"What I couldn't give to be shipped back to the states." Hogan heard another voice. It sounded familiar. "You said you had a kraut that came in with information?"

"Yes, a Oberst Hermann. A real funny bone. Claims he's some spy, that our side planted. A likely story. I'm giving him as a present to the Russians."

"How thoughtful. I do so hope you gift-wrap him." The second man laughed, and the sound drew closer.

"Havin' fun in there _Fritz_?" Colonel SS's face appeared in between the bars.

"Oh it's quite cosy. I was thinking of moving in here permanently."

"Always the funny man."

"Everyone needs an identity." Hogan retorted. Suddenly a second face appeared.

"Robert?!"

"Michael?!"

"Robert?!"

"Michael?!"

"Robert…what, what are you _doing_ in there!" Mike couldn't believe his eyes.

"You…you know this kraut?" Colonel SS's mouth dropped open.

"Know him? Are you kidding! This is Colonel Robert Hogan! _The_ Colonel Robert Hogan! Creator of Lunch-Losing-Loops! Get him out of there! _NOW_!" Michael smiled as the General ran to get a guard with a key.

"You always had a way with people, Mike." Hogan crossed to the door, as a guard came back and unlocked it.

"Man, Robby. You must have one _hell_ of a story to end up here. I knew you were taken captive…but I thought it was by the Germans…not the Americans." He smiled at his old friend.

"Well, everyone needs a change in perspective." Hogan slapped his old friend on the back.

"I guess…but I didn't think being captured by the your own side was on the list."

"Well to each his own. But I owe you a drink for getting me outta there."

"Make it a double and you got a deal. Come-on, let's get you out of that ridiculous costume." The two friends walked down to the exit of the cooler and started their way back to Colonel Steven's office. Colonel Steven was nearly biting the heals of the two friends, thoroughly confused, and now thoroughly terrified for his career.

"One thing though, Michael." Hogan stopped walking, causing Colonel Stevens to nearly bump into them.

"Anything, Robby."

"I need to find my men…"

* * * * *

Carter walked with Emil Hase, another prisoner, and two guards from the lorry towards the POW camp commander's office. Carter was nervous, but at the same time felt like this is where he belonged, that he had spent some time before behind barbed wire, _but that's silly_, he thought_, only criminals and prisoners of war are behind barbed wire. Maybe I was a guard? _

The five of them walked up the steps and entered the one-roomed office. A man in his mid-fifties looked up from his desk when the four of them entered.

"Sir! Three new prisoners just released from hospital."

"Thank you, James. You and Smith can wait outside." The commander answered.

"Thank you, sir." James and Smith left the building, leaving Carter, Hase, the other prisoner, and the commander alone.

"Welcome to England. You three are now prisoners of war. This is a temporary stop before you arrive at your final destination. I am Group Leader Henry Dover. I am a fair man, and as long as you behave yourself, we will get along smashingly while you are under my supervision, don't and well…you will see I can be a harsh man. I understand you were both captured by the Americans, well, as much as I admire our cousins across the sea, you will find us a little more cultured. Though," he stroked his chin and shifted his eyes towards the ceiling thinking, "the Americans do make some smashing tea…when they don't throw it in the river. Alas I digress. There will be no escaping, you can both be, and will be, shot on sight if we find you decided to try, and we always know when you do. We have all the cultural amenities while you are here, and you and your fellow Jerries will be allowed to have political talks, and you are allowed to greet them with your version of military curtsies. Now. Here," he handed them a copy of the Geneva Convention written in German, "if you have any questions the answers will be in this book. Also there is a liaison between you Jerries and we English. See him if you have any questions. The Red Cross packages also have arrived yesterday, you three will each receive one. You are both assigned to hut five," he said pointing at Hase and Carter, then pointing at the third man, "and you hut twenty-two. Roll Call in the morning, and in the evening. If you have any more questions see your liaison. Now I am a busy man, so you are dismissed." He sat back down. Carter and Hase looked at each other, shrugged, and walked out of the building. They looked around, and figured hut five should be in-between huts four and six. Noticing the hut in front of them was number twenty-one, they started their search.

The pair had gotten no more than 50 meters when Carter felt a rock hit is back. Spinning around he saw five Germans walking towards them.

"Verräter. Ihr liebt die Engländer. Ihr seid gar keine richtige nazis. Verdammte Tommys! _(Traitor. You both speak English. Neither of you are true nazis. Damned Tommys!)_" The widest of the three yelled.

„Was? Du spinnst! Wir sind stolze nazis! _(What? You're crazy! __We are proud nazis!)_"

„Dieser hier _(This on ehere)_," he pointed at Carter, „Er ist gar kein Deutscher! _(He's not even German) _You don't understand German do you! I heard a nurse talking about you!" The tallest of the pair shoved Carter, knocking him to the ground.

"Doch! Er ist Deutscher! Lass ihn in Ruhe! _(You're wrong! He is German! Leave him alone!)_" Hase yelled, pulling Carter up. The same German kicked Carter in the belly, causing him to double over.

"Du bist auch Verräter! _(You are also a traitor!)_" The last member of the group challenging them yelled. Then he turned on Hase and socked him in the face, causing his nose to start spurting blood.

Carter regained his breath, and stood up, grabbing the German who was now strangling Hase and managed to tackle him to the ground. The moment both of them landed, another member of the ground kicked Carter off, and starting smacking his head.

Carter could see stars, and when his hearing had a moment to readjust, he heard a crowd gathering, egging the attackers on. He hurt all over, someone was kicking his back, while another punched his face. The seconds felt like centuries. Carter tried to fight back, but there was too many of them. Some of the crowd had entered the fight and was now attacking both Carter and Hase. Finally, he heard new shouting. This shouting he could understand, and finally after Carter believed this would be his last few moments on Earth, the attackers stopped. The guards had pulled them off of him.

Carter laid there, dazed and bleeding. He felt two people pick him up, and carry him to a bunk in the barracks. Looking through his swollen eyes, he saw that there was a camp medic hovering over him, and talking to the guards. A moment later one of the guards came back with a cloth full of ice. The medic applied it to Carter's face. It felt nice and cool, and started to take the pain away, although his whole body ached. The medic was talking to him. However Carter could only pick out a few words and phrases, before he closed his eyes, letting the man take care of his wounds.

* * *

He awoke some hours later to find himself on a truck. It was dark outside. Cater tried to lift his head, but found he was too weak. Inside he turned his head to better view the man sitting next to him. The man turned and smiled at Carter.

"Hey, you're awake!" Carter identified the man as American, "Good. You gave us a right ol' scare there buddy. We thought we was gonna lose you."

"Wha? Where, where am I?" Carter's mouth felt swollen, and he found it difficult to form words through the dried blood and his injured throat.

"You're on your way home as a matter of fact. Boy was that camp commander ever furious when he found out you was American! He said it ain't no right for a American ta be in a POW camp. No sir! He had ya taken outta your hut the second he found out that you ain't no kraut! Called us he did. And now we is takin' you back to that cosy little stalag of yours."

"Stal-ag?"

"Why sure! You ain't no ordinary prisoner I found out! No Sir! Colonel Hogan would be right sore if you weren't returned. Please tell 'im "hello" by the way. I was one-uh the first downed fliers he got outta there. And boy, am I ever grateful."

"Downed flier?"

"Why sure! Ya don't remember? How hard did ya get hit in the head?"

"That's what I'm wondering. My memory has been on the fritz for a week now. I mean I can remember some things, but not everything, ya know? It's like those old movie cameras, the ones that blink, only it's more dark then the movie film. Well not the movie film, but my memories ya know?"

"That's rough. By don't worry, once you is safe back under the care of Colonel Hogan I'm sure everything will come back to ya. You just rest easy now. We won't be there for at least 'nother day." Carter nodded at the man's words, causing the room to spin, he turned his head so he was starring at the ceiling of the truck. He sighed. If he wasn't a German, but an American, and was helping downed fliers out of Germany…then how much more didn't he know about himself? _Wish I could just look myself up in the encyclopaedia, that would be so much easier, than putting my identify back like a puzzle. _Carter closed his eyes, trying to ignore how much pain he was in. Suddenly his eyes flew open.

"Emil! What happened to Emil?!"

"Emil? Who's Emil?"

"My friend! My friend the German!"

"Look buddy. Our orders were to rescue you. Not some real kraut."

"He's my friend. We can't leave him there. They were trying to kill him!"

"Look, calm down. If he's in danger, then he will be separated from the other krauts there. It's policy at least with us Americans to separate harden and from more liberal krauts. He'll be safe. Close your eyes, and don't worry." The man smiled at Carter trying to reassure him. However, Carter wasn't so sure.


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry it took me a week to get this chapter up. Things have been crazy. I promise this is the last chapter with so much German. After this there is not so much. I want to thank you for all the reviews!! Enjoy!!!_

* * *

Olsen was thoroughly enjoying himself. As long as he kept a low profile, things were going to turn out okay. _By now, he thought, Kinch should have gotten my telegram, and they will work on getting me out of this ridicules situation_. He laughed, _guess I should buy him a postcard then_! Walking on the deck was proving invigorating for Olsen. He smelled the salt of the ocean and it was bringing back memories of his youth. He felt a bit depressed since he was leaving his friends from Stalag Luft 13, wasn't going home but instead to another POW camp this time in America. On top of that, no one was taking him seriously, and if he didn't return he would blow their whole operation. _One escape means no more Klink, no more Schultz, no more missions, no more helping downed fliers, and no more watching Frau Kalinke clean Klink's office…_it was one thing to lose their operation, but not having Frau Kalinke…Olsen shuttered at the thought. He looked down at his watch. It was nearly time for evening roll call. Starting on his way back towards the hold where they have them gather he sighed. _There has got to be a way out of here! This is a nice vacation, but I wanna get back home! And I want to do it after burning Stalag Luft 13 to the ground, and riding an Allied tank to Berlin to personally run over old scramble brains. _

Olsen took his place in line, and enjoyed watching the guards try to count them, as people shifted position, and did their best to mess up the count, just like Olsen and the others did back at Stalag Luft 13. He was amused how much one of the older guards reminded him of Schultz. It made him feel somehow less lonely. When the counting was finished the Major in charge stepped forward.

"I need to see Oberst Viktor Hermann after roll call." Olsen suddenly felt like a naughty school-boy. Everyone was looking at each other, and then once they figured out who it was, starred at him, with a mixture of curiosity, and loathing. Olsen gulped. The major dismissed the men and Olsen stepped forward.

"I-I am Oberst Viktor Hermann, Major." Olsen's voice wobbled. The Major looked at him and nodded.

"Come with me, Herr Oberst." He lead Olsen up a set of stairs and to a office which he was using for the duration of their time at sea. "Please sit down." Olsen complied. The Major pulled out a piece of paper and read a name off of it.

"Have you heard of a man named Sergeant John Sven Olsen, serial number 47228935?" He looked up at Olsen and smiled as he saw Olsen's eyes widen to the size of the Pacific Ocean.

"YES! YES I HAVE!" Olsen nearly screamed, barely containing himself.

"I thought you might. And where is this sergeant currently stationed?"

"Stalag Luft 13! Near Hammelburg! Germany, Major!"

"I had a feeling you would get that answer correct. _Sergeant_." His smiled broadened. "Never thought I'd live to see the day where we caught one of our own spies. But there is a first time for everything." He stood up and shook Olsen's hand. "Welcome home, Sergeant. We will get you out of that ridicules uniform and back into something a little more American. We will be meeting up with another ship heading towards France. There you will be transferred to their care, and sent back, apparently, to a POW camp in Germany. Now I didn't ask why you are being sent back to POW camp, after you just broke out of ours. It was none of my business. But I am sure as hell curious about it." He looked Olsen straight in the face, not showing a single sign of how curious he truly was.

"I'm sorry sir. But it is not my place to tell. But it is imperative that I get back there."

"Alright, I can live with that answer. I like a man who sticks to his principles. Now until we meet up with that ship, you will be my honoured guest." He slapped Olsen on the shoulder, and lead him out of the office and towards his new quarters.

* * * * *

General Burkhalter entered Stalag Luft 13. He shook his head as the car drove into the compound. This was the last place on Earth he wanted to be. Whatever Colonel Klink had to say wasn't going to be interesting _or_ informative. Burkhalter opened the door, just as Klink almost ran into it.

"General Burkhalter! Es freuet mich daß Sie hier gekommen sind! _(I'm please to see you here.)_"

„Sie haben mir telefoniert, Klink. _(You rang me, Klink.)_"

„Stimmt. _(Right)_"

„Warum bin ich hier? _(Why am I here?)_"

„Die Männer sind ganz krank. _(The men are sick)_"

„Und...? _(And...?)_"

„Ich dacht' daß Sie wiss'n soll'n. _(I thought you should know)_"

„Sie haben mir telefoniert, daß ich hier kommen soll, und Sie sagen nur daß die Männer krank sind? Klink, ich bin kein Arzt. _(You rang me, so I should come here, and all you tell me is the men are sick? Klink, I'm not a doctor.)_"

„Ich weiß daß Sie kein Arzt sind. Ich meine nur- _(I know you are not a doctor, I only meant that-)_„

„Ich frage mich manchmal warum Sie ein Luftwaffenoffizier sind. _(I sometimes wonder why you are a Luftwaffe Officer.)_"

„Ich frage mich auch manchmal. _(I wonder sometimes as well)_"

„Das ist nicht was _ich_ meine, Klink... _(That is not what _I_ meant, Klink…)_" Burkhalter stepped pasted Klink and headed towards Klink's office. Klink ran to catch up.

* * *

"Uh-oh. Looks like trouble Der Dicke Burkhalter is here." Kinch looked out the window of the barracks.

"Blimey. Nice timin' 'e 'as. Carter's suppose ta come back tonight."

"What do you think he wants, Kinch?" Lebeau walked over to the window.

"I dunno. But whatever it is, I don't like it."

* * *

"Klink. Warum bin ich hier? Wenn die Männer krank sind, ruf nen Doktor, nicht mich! _(Why am I here? If the men are sick, ring a doctor, not me!)_"

„Ruf nen Doktor. Gute Idee, Herr General. Ich tue es. _(Ring a doctor. Good idea, General. I'll do it.)_" Klink started to raise the phone to his ear, and then stopped. "Sie glauben nicht, daß es kein' Pest ist? Vielleicht die Amerikaner hab'n es zu den Männer gegeben? Und wenn dies' Männer krank sind...dann sind wir...und, dann könnt'n die den Krieg gewinn'n! Die Amerikaner sind sehr schlau. _(You don't believe that it is not the plague? __Maybe the Americans gave it to the men? __And when the men are…then we are..., then they could win the war! __The Americans are very clever.)_"

„Klink...warum würden die Amerikaner ihre Männer die Pest geben? _(why would the Americans give their men the plague?)_"

„Ich weiß genau nicht...aber sie sind schlau! _(I dunno...but they are very clever!)_"

„Ja. Sie sind, aber _Sie_ nicht. _(Yes. They are, but _you_ aren't.)_" As Burkhalter lit the cigar from Klink's personal stash, Major Hochstetter burst into the room.

"Ah, Major Hochstetter! Es freuet mich Sie – _(It pleases me to-)_" Klink started to say.

„Halt die Schnauze, Klink! Wo ist Hogan?! _(Shut up, Klink! __Where is Hogan?!)_" Hochstetter shouted, pounding his fist on the table.

"Hogan ist in seinem Baracke. Warum wollen Sie ihn sehen? _(Hogan is in his Barracks. Why do you want to see him?)_" Burkhalter asked, without even looking at Hochstetter.

„Weil Jemand mir angerufen haben als ich letzte- _(Because someone rang me as I was here the last-)_„

„Weil Jemand hat Ihnen angerufen, wollen Sie Hogan sehen. Das ist ganz logisch. _(Because someone rang you, you want to see Hogan. That is logical.)_" Burkhalter interrupted Hochstetter.

„Ich weiß daß er mir- _(I know that he-)_„

„O, natürlich. Aber Hogan hat die Pest. _(Oh, of course. But Hogan has the plague.)_"

„Die Pest? Die Pest! Hogan hat gar keine Pest! _(The plague? The plague! Hogan does not have the plague!)_" Hochstetter banged his fist on the table again.

* * *

Kinch was listening to the conversation unfold. He looked at Lebeau and Newkirk.

"What should we do, Kinch? That monster wants to see the Colonel." Lebeau asked Kinch nervously.

"Well, create a distraction. Burn down the barracks? Burn down the rec hall? Burn Hochstetter's car?"

"What's with the burnin' theme?" Newkirk asked as he puffed on a cigarette.

"Seemed as good as any."

"Impersonate a General?" Newkirk suggested.

"Done it." Lebeau answered.

"Blow up somethin'?" Newkirk suggested again.

"Done it." Lebeau replied again.

"Well than you think of somethin', Louis." Newkirk replied sarcastically.

"Well I think it should be something fitting, poetic justice of some sort." Lebeau turned to Kinch as he spoke.

"Brilliant Lebau! Now mind tellin' us what that is?" Newkirk grinned.

"Well…Klink said we had the plague. So let's give him a plague. Get everyone together and tell them that we are coming down with Hochstetterities." Kinch finally suggested.

"What if Klink finally calls a doctor?" Lebau asked.

"Then we get magically well."

"If only real colds work that way…" Newkirk had a dreamy look in his eye.

* * * * *

Hogan stretched out on the bunk in the guest quarters of the POW camp. He couldn't stop thinking about his men. It was driving him loony that he had no idea where they were. Colonel Stevens had only been so helpful. Saying that "how should I know where they are. They were suppose to be krauts." And his filing system regarding German POWs reflected his distaste. Leaving Hogan clueless. Continuing to stare at the ceiling and counting the number of tiny decorative holes it had in it, he thought about Kinch. He had delayed in radioing him, since he had no information about Carter or Olsen. But deciding that he might as well get it over with, he sat up and crossed the room. Opening the door, he bumped into his good friend, Michael Tomorrow.

"Op! Sorry Robby, I was just comin to see you."

"I can see that. What's up?"

"Well I wanted to let you know, I've arranged transportation for you back to that little castle of yours. I really wish you would tell me what this is all about, I am dying to know. "

"Thanks, Mike. Sorry that I can let you in on the joke, it's classified. Any word on my missing men?"

"Yeah as a matter of fact. We found one of them out at sea, and he will be arriving in France in about three days."

"Three days!"

"Sorry, Robby. That's the best we could do."

"What about my other man, Carter?"

"He's in England, and should be arriving at that stalag of yours tonight." Michael watched as relief washed over Hogan, causing him nearly to fall down.

"You on the other hand, will be leaving this afternoon, and arriving tomorrow."

"I need to radio my camp then, and let them know of my ETA."

"I thought you might. Come-on and I'll show you the way. You know," he added as they walked, "you can also radio your good friend Michael here, or at least write him a letter or too, that way he isn't completely shocked to see you when you arrive unexpectedly in his neck of the woods."

"You love refereeing to yourself in the 3rd person don't you?"

"Yep."

"Well, my dear, Michael. I Mich-cahel Tomorrow!" Hogan started to laugh as he hadn't done in years. Michael joined in.

"You're never going to let that joke go, are you Robby?"

"Nope."

"Well then fair is fair. I will never let you live down being caught by your own side!!"

* * * * *

Lene sat on a chair in the tunnel. For the past week she had been living in their underground world, and it was getting to her. Mending some of the men's socks for something to do, she finished the last stitch when Kinch's radio beeped. Looking around she saw that no one else was down here, and walked over and picked up the receiver.

"Goldilocks this is Papa Bear. Come in Goldilocks. Over."

"Papa Bear this is Goldilocks. Over."

"Goldilocks?" The other end sounded completely surprised. "Um I think I have the wrong number, sorry. Over."

"No Papa Bear. This _is_ Goldilocks. There has been no mistake, over." There was a moment of confused silence before Papa Bear replied.

"Oh. Good. I like the thought of a co-ed war, Goldilocks, over."

"Do you have a message to relay, Papa Bear? Over." Lene smiled.

"Yes. Papa Bear returning 2100 hours tomorrow. Over."

"Thank you Papa Bear. I look forward to meeting you. Over."

"So do I Goldilocks. Have other cubs returned? Over."

"Negative Papa Bear, but we are expecting. Over."

"Understood, Papa Bear out."

Lene had just gotten up when a man suddenly rushed down the latter from barracks two. He ran passed her and up the latter towards another barracks. Lene watched him run paced her up and the ladder. Whatever was going on was obviously important, because no more than 30 seconds later, he ran down the same ladder this time with another man and each went up another ladder to another barracks. Lene sat back down, figuring this was not the time to be interfering, but whatever was going on was gonna happen fast.

* * * * *

Carter bumped around in the jeep as they drove towards Hammelburg. Everytime they went over a bump, he felt like he received a whole new set of injuries.

"Sorry about all these pot-holes, Sergeant. They can't be pleasant for a chap in your condition." The word "pot-hole" stirred something in Carter's injured brain.

"Schlaglöcher! Pot-holes!"

"What's that?"

"The German word for pot-hole. It's Schlaglöcher!"

"Okay…that's an unusual piece of trivia, Sir."

"No don't you see! I remembered something! I hit my head, well it got hit twice, but the first time I hit my head, I lost my memory, and it's been coming back. And then I thought I was kraut cause I was in their uniform, but I wasn't! I'm an American and you see! I remembered something!" Carter was ecstatic.

"I don't think those are the only times you hit your head…" The corporal said under his breath.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, Sir. We will be reaching the drop-off point in about an hour."

* * * * *

Kinch was putting the final touches on his make-up before crawling into this bunk, when Hochstetter flew open the door.

"WHERE IS HOGAN?!" He stormed into this room. Glancing around he noticed every member of the barracks was lying in bead, with red coloured bumps on their faces.

"Why are you in bed?!"

"The-the pain…oh the pain!" Newkirk horsed his voice as loud as he could.

"What pain?!"

"The blisters…they hurt…please help us…" Kinch started his act, signalling the rest of the barracks to join. Hochstetter took a step back, knocking Klink over.

"Donnerwetter! You all have spots! SCHULTZ! Call a doctor! We have an epidemic!"

"Jawohl Herr Kommandant! Which doctor?"

"Mir Egal, Schultz, aber ruf ihn! Ruf ihn! _(I don't care, Schultz, but ring him! Ring him!)_" Klink bolted out of the barracks almost clipping Schultz's heels on the way out. Hochstetter stormed over to Hogan's office and upon opening the door, he saw that Hogan, or rather his stand-in, was lying on the bottom bunk, covered in red spots, and his face was swollen. Hochstetter exited the room, slamming the door behind him, and then slamming the door to the barracks. One minute later, the barracks erupted into a cheer!

* * *

Kinch came sliding down the ladder and ran over to his post at the radio switchboard, Newkirk came running up beside him. Kinch plugged in the switch, just as Klink started his call to the doctor. Lene watched as the two men played a delicate game that they must of done before."

"H-herr Doktor D-duden ist im m-m-moment nicht hier. Wie kann i-i-ich Ihnen helfen? _(Doktor D-duden is not c-c-currently here.)_" Newkirk answered Klink.

"Bitte, sag den Doktor daß ich bei Stalag Luft 13 ne Epidemie habe! Er musst sofort kommen! Ich will nicht erkaltet sein! _(Please, tell the doctor that I have an epidemic here at Stalag Luft 13! He must come immediately! I don't want to get sick!)_"

„Ich sa-sage ihn. Auf wie-ie-iederhören. _(I'll te-tell him. Go-goodbye.)_" Newkirk hung up before Klink had a chance to reply.

"You sounded kraut enough to shot, Peter."

"It's a gift. You 'ave it or you don't."

"I thought you hated speaking German?"

"I do. But if I get ta fool Klink, then it's worth it." Newkirk lit a cigarette.

"Now to contact one of the local underground agents to be our doctor." Kinch warmed up the radio.

* * *

_I had no idea that he stuttered. Huh. It must be quite cold in the hospital..._ Klink stroked his chin thoughtfully.


	10. Chapter 10

Schultz entered the barracks carrying a towel next to his mouth as if by some miracle it would help him from getting sick when he entered the barracks. He entered the room and looked a the men in their bunks. He shook his head at the sad state the men were in. He felt so bad for them. All the prisoners in camp had come down with the plague. Schultz announced the doctor.

"Akung ee ducker meer oo zee oo." Schultz attempted to say through the cloth that was next to his mouth, although no one in the barracks understood him. Once the doctor was in, Schultz bolted out of the barracks.

"Ah, Herr Doktor Duden, I presume." Kinch stood up and walked over to their underground member.

"Sargeant Kinchloe _I_ presume." He extended his hand to Kinch. "You sure do look terrible."

"Thanks, Herr Doktor, we do try." Kinch smiled.

"So what is this all about?"

"Well we needed a distraction for the Germans, and it just kinda went from there. So as far as you are considered there is a terrible epidemic. And it will last at least three more days or till we get all our members back."

"Ah I understand. These things do take time. Your Kommandant there believes you all have the plague!" He laughed.

"That's ol' Blood and Guts for ya!" One of the men spoke up loudly.

"So what do you actually want me to do, Sergeant?" Doktor Duden asked.

"Well just certify us as very sick, we can't go out, um, the guards should stay away from us, very contagious this plague you know, and uh well, anything else medicalish." Kinch explained.

"I see. Well _doctor_, that sounds like sound medical advice."

"Klink may make you see the other members of the other barracks, we all magically got the same disease."

"These things happen in a POW camp. Well I prescribe plenty of rest, stay away fro the guards like you said, and in three days I will return and see if you are all cured."

"I believe we shall be, but you know best!"

"Very well then, good luck, and I will see you in three days! I will tell Klink some _medicalish_ things that will ensure everyone stays away from you. " The Doctor left to go inform the Kommandant about the situation.

* * *

Evening roll call went without a hitch. Schultz was so afraid that he would catch the plague that he still covered his face with a towel, counted the men as quickly as possible, and then ran out of the barracks as fast as his feet would carry him, leaving the men giggling inside as they watched him exit. The moment Schultz left, Kinch signalled to Lebeau and to Foster that they were going out to get Carter. Everyone was anxious to have their missing members back.

"Ok guys, let's go." Kinch was the first to climb up the ladder, followed by Lebeau and Foster. The three of them walked quickly and silently through the woods. It didn't take them long to find the spot. But there was no Carter.

"Where is he?!" Lebeau hissed.

"We are still a little early, perhaps he hasn't arrived yet." Foster suggested.

"We will wait fifteen minutes to see if he shows up." Kinch looked at his watch. _Come-on Carter…we need to get back to camp!_ Kinch silently prayed that Carter would show up soon.

Fifteen minutes came and past, but no one was ready to give up on their young member. Kinch let the time go, and another five minutes passed. Still no sign of Carter.

"We need to head back guys, we'll be no use to him if we are caught ourselves."

"We can't leave him out there, mon Ami, what if he is lost or hurt?" Lebeau pleaded.

"Lost? Carter knows these woods as well as we do." Kinch suddenly turned his head as a twig snapped.

"I thought you were suppose to know these woods." A voice whispered. Lebeau, Kinch, and Foster crept down and pulled their guns, just in case it was an unfriendly voice.

"Well I'm sure I did. But every since I hit my head, I don't seem to know anything anymore, and well-" Carter stepped on Lebeau's hand, causing both of them to yelp!

"Don't shoot!" Carter yelled placing his hands in the air.

"Nicht Schießen!" The Corporal yelled at the same time, also placing his hands in the air.

"Carter!" Kinch, Lebeau, and Foster whispered loudly, nearly knocking him down as they jumped up to welcome him back.

"Sacré Bleu, Carter! You look terrible! What happened?" Lebeau looked at his friend's face.

"Um, are you guys Goldilocks?" Carter asked nervously.

"Of course we are, Carter. You feeling, ok?" Kinch became immediately concerned for his friend. "Come-on, let's get you home."

"I'll go then. Glad to see you're back home safe." The Corporal turned to head back to the car by the side of the road. Kinch and Lebeau helped Carter balance as he walked, while Foster kept an eye out for patrols.

* * *

Everyone in the barracks couldn't wait till their friend returned. When the four of men climbed down the barracks, there was already a welcome-home party waiting for them. As Carter turned around he was overwhelmed with pats on the back and people shaking his hand.

"Tell us what happened, Carter!"

"How'd you get captured?!"

"'Ow was jolly ol' England?!"

"Did you see any good-lookin' birds?!"

"How was the food?!"

"Alright, alright settle down, everyone!" Kinch spoke above the crowd. Carter starred at everyone, not remembering in the slightest who they were, but at the same time, everything looked familiar. As the men got closer they saw he had two black eyes, swollen lips, and various cuts and scraps on his face. As they looked further one arm was in a sling, and the other wrapped up.

"Uh hi guys. I'm Axel Ju- I mean Andrew…Andrew Carter!" Carter smiled at everyone. "I'm sorry if we've met before, but I kinda had my head get hit. And well, I remember some things."

"Carter! You remember ol' Newkirk, right?" Newkirk took a step closer to his friend.

"New…kirk. Newkirk! You're Newkirk?!"

"Says so on me tag."

"The nurse said I mumbled your name! But I had no idea who you were!"

"You forgot Newkirk?" Someone said. It was followed by a whisper of: "Lucky guy" and various snickers.

"Aw sod off ya lot!" Newkirk turned his head towards the snickers and then turned back to Carter places his arm over his shoulders. "Come-on, Carter, let's get ya back 'ome." He lead Carter through the tunnel and up the stairs. Lebau let out a low whistle.

"That's gonna be hard to cover-up, Kinch." Kinch nodded before speaking.

"Yeah, we'll have to come up with a good excuse. Any ideas?" Lebeau shook his head. Kinch looked at the other men standing nearby, all of them also shook their heads, still dumbfounded at their friend's condition.

"I wonder what happened to him…" One man spoke softly, mostly to himself.

"I dunno, mate, but whatever or whoever it was, they will have to answer to me." Another answered.

"Oui. I have a piece of mind to give to them…" Lebau clenched his fists.

* * * * *

Hogan was eating in the guard's mess hall, or rather picking at his food, when Colonel Stevens hesitantly walked up to him, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Um…_Colonel_…Hogan…" Hogan looked up at the other Colonel as he said his name.

"_Colonel_ Stevens." Hogan said with obvious distaste.

"I, uh, want to…er, apologise for, well…you know, thinking you were a, um German. Since you are obviously not…I'm er, sorry. You were in German uniform and, well.."

"It was confusing?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"And why should you believe a dirty kraut?"

"Exactly! I'm so glad you understand."

"And obviously when someone says their a spy wearing a German uniform, they are obviously lying, so why should you believe them, or bother to look into the matter?"

"Oh thank goodness! You _do_ understand, what a relief."

"Oh, I understand well and good. That you put your own personal feelings before your duty. That you put your own objectives before justice. That you are your own dictatorship, instead of leadership. Oh no, I _completely_ understand, _Colonel_. I know you better than you think. You are the type of person who enjoys power. Well I hope you enjoyed it, because power is _exactly_ what you are _going_ to _enjoy_. I will leave you with this phrase. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely", _Colonel_. Just remember, your days are numbered in that field. And," Hogan stood up, starring Stevens directly in the face, "I will do everything in my _power_ that you, _Colonel_, receive the same _justice_ as you gave me. The Germans may be _our_ enemy, but there is no reason why we should sink to their level of _injustice_. For if we do, are _we_ any better than _they_ are?" Hogan turned abruptly, and walked out. Stevens eyes followed him, he was completely speechless.

* * *

There have only a few times in his life, when Hogan was truly angry at someone. While to be perfectly hounest, Hogan knew that considering he had been treated fairly well, in retro speck of what he went through when he was captured by the Germans. He shuddered at the memory. It was that Colonel Stevens had treated him in the same light as they did, without a thought or without a care, that got to him. Hogan had always believed that their side were the good guys, the heroes, those who stand up to injustice. Stevens had poked holes in that image. More than anything that is what was gnawing at him. Stevens was so quick to judge him, and refused to listen to truth or reason. _Would I do the same? If I was a camp commander, and I had a German claiming to be a spy…no, no I would check with London, as I always do. I would give the man a chance. And I defiantly wouldn't turn him over to the Russians. _He had heard what the Russians did to the Germans, and the Germans to the Russians. Both made his skin crawl. Hogan shook his head to clear out the images. Stevens was a "bad egg", as Carter would say. Hogan's heart jumped as he remembered the young sergeant. _Thankfully it sounds like he is alright, and should be back at camp by now._ He sighed, leaning against an outside wall on his storm around the camp. _What can I expect? What can I do? Teach the commander a lesson? Say, "you've been a bad boy"? How many other Germans has he punished unjustly. Granted many probably received do sentencing from him, but what if one, just one who didn't, and was given over to the Russians without trial, or was even beaten by the guards as Stevens looked the other way…what can I do about it? _

"Robby?" Tomorrow's voice startled Hogan so that he jumped.

"Huwha'?" Hogan turned to see his old friend.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. You look like you're fighting your own little war there. Anything I can do to help?"

"Nah, it's…no, wait. Maybe you can help. I am trying to figure out how to fix our Colonel Stevens problem."

"Ah, Colonel Samuel Stevens. Lemme tell you a little about your favourite Colonel." He lead Hogan towards a bench, and they both sat down. "Stevens is a harsh man, I will grant you that. An unfair, cruel man, even to his own men." He shook his head sadly. "During the Great War, he was taken captive, and beaten, severely. There was no Geneva Convention back then to help him, as you well know. They starved him, and…well, you get the idea. Now comes along this war, and his son…his son is taken captive. History repeating itself. His wife gets a Telegram, "your son has been captured", you know the drill, a month later, his son has been killed. Shot while "trying to escape". Except that his son couldn't fight his way out a wet paper bag if he tried, or find the paper bag…not the brightest bulb. Right after it happened one of his son's buddies sent him a letter. The gestapo came one day…and that was it." Both men looked at the ground. Hogan didn't say anything. He knew that kraut trick all too well. "So now Stevens is, _somehow_, now put in charge of German POWs, Lord knows why, and he is taking his own revenge for his son's death."

"But that isn't right. Half of these boys are surrendering willing. Granted I fully will agree that their country has done terrible things. _Terrible things_. But some of these boys…I've worked with the underground enough to know, have no choice. It's those that enjoy killing and torturing that we should be punishing. He shouldn't be in charge if he is going to see through black shaded glasses!"

"Whoa, hold on there, Robby. You've been a prisoner too long, you-wait. Did you say you work with the underground? How does that work? Is that how you got out?"

"What? Oh. Um, never mind." Hogan looked away, at the same time both men said, "classified." Though Tomorrow had a feeling there was more to it then Hogan led on, but he wasn't going to push his friend.

"Look, what do you want me to say? I fully condemn treating the krauts like they're pigs. But then again, they treat our boys like-"

"So that makes it right?! Well if they treat us this way, then let us treat them that way too!" Hogan mocked.

"No. But at least in the US they get treated fairly well. They get three meals a-day, there is no war, they get to get outside of camp and mingle with real Americans…"

"So they get a life of luxury in the US, as we Americans get the short end of the straw _here_, where the fighting is."

"Robby, Robby. Look at me. Here is my take on it. We can't tell a dirty, führer loving goon, from that of a German who was forced into this hell. They get captured, and we have to play the cords. You were caught with information. How was he suppose to know you were American?"

"Because I told him, again, and again. I gave him my name, rank, and serial number and I even told him that I was-…nevermind." Hogan sat back down.

"That you were what? There is more to this story then you are telling me."

"Let's just say I've seen how the krauts play, and I don't want my own side playing by the same rules."

"So what would you do?"

"I'm gonna see that our Colonel Samuel Stevens is taken off jail duty and placed in another field."

"Which?" His friend was intently curious, however Hogan paused a moment before answering.

"Mail duty."

"Mail duty? Mail duty! You can't put a colonel on mail duty!"

"To hell I can't." Hogan stood up, and starting marching towards the office. "Watch me."

"Why mail duty of all things?" Hogan stopped and turned to his friend.

"It was that or turning him over to the Germans as a G_ift_. But I don't wanna be hung for inhumane treatment to the Germans if there is a war-trial after this, and I've heard rumours of one. But you see, the man loves power, he loves being in charge, and he loves information. People need mail-_power_, mail needs to be delivered-_being in charge_, and mail is _information_. There you go. So at least it's not completely inhumane, which is how he wanted to treat me!" As he entered the building he turned to the secretary. "Put through a call to London. I want to speak with General Ham. Now!"

* * * * *

Olsen stretched out on the deck, enjoying his last few moments on the ship. They would be docking with another that was heading to France_. I could get used to this, I really could._ Olsen smiled to himself. _This is truly the life. When this blasted war is over, I am taking a slow boat to China, or rather the territory of Hawaii. I heard that is a nice place for relaxing. _

"Sergeant Olsen?" A voice loomed behind him. "We will be docking in ten minutes. Are you ready to go."

"Everything I got is in my little bag here." He lifted up a bag he received when he was takin' captive. "Though, there is one last request."

"Yes, Sir?" The private asked.

"Is there any American food I can bring back as peace offering to the guys at the Stalag?"

* * * * *

Reorienting Carter was proving a challenge. While his mind was soaking everything up like a sponge, there were still gaps in it. The largest was he had blanked out their mission. His reaction to finding out that they helped the Allied war effort was truly amusing to Newkirk. Carter got wide eyed and asked what his part was. When Newkirk answered with "blowin' things up, mate" Carter yet out a cheer and replied, "I think I remember I like that. I remember something about a school or somethin' and I was the one that blew it up…I think. Blowin' up bridges sounds fun!"

While everyone was relieved that Carter had returned, no one was more relieved than the underground member stand-in. He could finally leave and get back home. Leaving the other two slightly annoyed with his slightly hasty and grand exit.

Carter laid on his bunk as Sergeant Wilson looked him over.

"Do you remember anything more about the mission, your accident, perhaps where the plans are?

"No…not really. I mean I remember waking up in the hospital, we were on a boat. And things after that, but before, uh-uh."

"Ok, that's ok. I'm glad that your memory is coming back though, it will be a slow process, but I expect a full recovery."

"Thanks Sir."

"We're the same rank, Carter. You don't have to call me "sir.""

"Oh. Sorry."

"Let me know if you need anything. We are running low on supplies, but this-" He gave Carter a small pill, "should help with some of the pain you are in. It looks like whoever patched you up did a good job. And I want you to rest as much as possible alright? No going out dancing. We are under quarantine anyways." Wilson got up and headed towards the tunnel entrance, Kinch followed him down. Once they were down in the tunnel Wilson turned to him.

"I'm worried about him. Someone sure worked him up good. Some of those injuries looked like they were sustained in a crash or something similar, but the others, the majority, was definitely a work-up from someone, or some people." Kinch sighed sadly at the news.

"The question is, where did he get them?"

"I can't tell you that, but if Carter is any sign, I am really worried about the Colonel and Sergeant Olsen."

"Me too, Joe, me too."

* * * * *

Hogan sat fuming. Or rather pouting. He called his friend General Ham back at Headquarters, and was abruptly dismissed, being told: "War is hell, Rob. And everyone does things they aren't proud of. I'm sorry you got caught in our own net, but if it is any consolidation, you're out of there now. And if you really want, we will look into it." That at least on a small level made Hogan feel better. But he was still unnerved that Colonel Stevens could be at his injustice for months if not years to come, depending on how long the war lasted.

He got up to finish packing a small bag of supplies and headed out the door towards his ride back. Michael Tomorrow ran up to catch him.

"Hey Robby! Robby!" Hogan stopped and turned to him. "I've got some news that will make you feel better."

"Really? What's that? The Germans are surrendering and I get to finally go home? Or you finally learned how to drive a jeep?"

"Close. Colonel Stevens is being sent to London next week. You must have said something to them, this one General, a General Butler…or is that Barton, anyways, is steamin' mad! They are gonna look into how he runs his camp. So there you go, Robby. Justice."

"Justice… well I suppose it's better than nothing."

"Uh-hu…"

"My ride is here, so I need to be off. Write me will ya?"

"I still don't understand why you are returning to a POW camp, after getting out."

"Loyalty."

"Loyalty. Well they must be good men then, because no one in this whole of Europe, and I'm sure Asia, Australia, Africa, oh hell, the whole world is more loyal than you are."

"True, Mike, true." Hogan smiled.

"I'll write you, if you write me then."

"I Mike-write you tomorrow…that doesn't work as well does it?"

"You've been in this war too long, Robby, you're jokes are going sour."

"Not sour, just stale."

"I'll see you?" Mike paused on his words.

"I may be a prisoner, but I'm planning on surviving this war."

"Good. You still owe me for the double."

"Not if you forget!" Hogan sat down in the car, the driver started up the engine.

"Not likey! You take care of yourself, you hear! Nancy would be displeased if you go and hurt yourself!" The driver started to drive away, Hogan turned back and shouted.

"Tell her I'll see you one week from the end of the war in London, at Hyde Park! Seventeen hundred hours!" With that Hogan turned around, closed his eyes for a moment, and sighed. He was going back to where he belonged.


	11. Chapter 11

Klink was actually bored. With Burkhalter and Hochstetter gone, and the prisoners all sick and under quarantine, things were usually quiet. And he was…bored. Klink started to doodle on a scrape piece of paper. Starring down at he abruptly picked it up and threw it away. Standing up he walked around his office for a minute and sat back down. There is nothing to do besides paperwork. _And I've nearly finished all of it. Maybe I should visit Hogan. Yes, he visited me while I was sick, it would be the least I could do…unless I get the plague! I don't want the plague! Unless this is just another trick of Hogan's…but the doctor certified that they were all sick. Hmpf. I wouldn't but it passed Hogan. He is just sneaky enough to do it. Next thing you know he will be gathering blue-berries and making jam to win the war!_ Klink smiled to himself. _Hehehe! But won't he be surprised! With our condom dropping raids, we will get those English! Unless they drop those chocolate bombs on us…_(1)_ No, no matter what Hogan thinks, we are winning! _Klink stood up, _maybe I will visit him_. Klink started to walk towards the door, however once he opened it, and took a step out, he changed his mind. He turned to Helga, who was typing away. He looked a her, considering asking her to dinner, as her shift ended in about five minutes, but instead informed her that he was going out to the Hofbräuhaus there in Hammelburg.

* * * * *

Hogan leaned back. He would be getting ready to bail out soon, taking supplies for his men with him. Mentally preparing himself, he kept thinking about a book he read as a child. One particular phrase was going through his mind, "if we traded places, Molly, would you feel and act the same?" Well Hogan did trade places, but like Molly in the story, he had no answer. No matter how much he wanted to say "yes". _I did trade places, and what have I learned? I learned War is Hell. But from now on, I am going to watch myself, because if ever, _ever_ I am forced to doubt a man, I want a reason to go with it, and a damn good reason at that. _

"We are approaching the bail-out point sir." The navigator told Hogan.

"Alright." Hogan stood up and adjusted his chute. "Just tell me when." He got into place.

"In five, four, three, two, one, GO!" The navigator shouted. Hogan threw out the supplies, and then waited a second later jumped himself, shouting on the way down: "Hogan-Bomb awaaaaaaaaay! (2)"

* * *

Klink was walking back to his car when he looked up at the sound of a plane. Not seeing the plane his eyes focused on something white in the sky. _A little early for snow, but that is sure one big snowflake. _

* * *

Hogan landed and folded up the Parachute, while his instincts told him to burry it, they were running low on them. Hogan immediately snatched up their supply kit he jumped with, and tried to orient himself. _I'm further than I wanted to be. Just my luck._ _Oh well_, Hogan looked up at the sky, _it's a nice night for a walk…_

* * *

Kinch and Lebeau were waiting at the spot. Never could contain their excitement for having their commanding officer back. Kinch had never been more relieved at having his CO return from a mission.

"Where is he, mon Ami? I heard the plane, he should be here by now. Do you think something went wrong?"

"I dunno, Louis, but with our luck…" Kinch heard a twig snap near him, both he and Lebeau immediately sank down into the shadows.

"Patrol!" Lebeau whispered, Kinch nodded. "They are heading towards us, and the drop-off spot."

"- 'n Flugzeug gesehen _(-saw an airplane)_." Kinch could hear the patrol talking. Lebeau's eyes widened as he also picked up on what they were saying.

"Ich seh' Niemand. Es gibt Niemand, oder? _(I don't see anyone. There is no one there, is there?)_"

„Doch. Jemand ist hier. (Yes there is. Someone is here.)"

„What should we do, Kinch? They might catch the Colonel." Lebeau barely whispered.

"Well if they do, at least it's by the right people…what am I saying? I mean the wrong people, except that we want him back. So while it's the wrong side-"

"Newkirk's right. You _are_ starting to sound like Carter."

* * *

Klink stopped his car, there was a lorry standing in the middle of road, completely blocking it. _Well that's_ i_nconsiderate!_ Klink stepped out, leaving his car also blocking the road, and started to search for the fools involved in blocking the road.

* * *

Hogan was moving as fast and as quickly as he could. Suddenly he heard whispering. Straining to hear, he could make out that it was a German patrol, and that they were looking for a downed flier. _Perfect. I wonder if there is a world record for most times being caught in one war. _Hogan crouched down, hardly daring to breath. The patrol was five meters, four meters, three meters in front of him when another voice entered the mix.

"Sie da! _(You there!)_"

_Klink? Klink?! What is Klink doing in the middle of the woods?_ Hogan wondered, and listened to the conversation between the Germans. Amused that Klink, in his usual in competency, was giving the patrol a talking-down about leaving their car in the middle of the road. As one of the youths ran off to rectify the situation, Klink bolted in a different direction at hearing there was a downed Allied flyer, and he was determined to catch them. _Probably in order to impress Berlin. Leave it to Klink, to helped the Allies without knowing it! _Hogan now had a straight shot towards the meeting point, as Klink led the patrol on a wild-goose chase in the wrong direction.

Hogan ran for it. While running through the woods was not his usual style, he had a lot of ground to cover, and was not interested in being captured again, even if it was by Klink. Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, carrying the supply case was not exactly easy, he tried to listen past the pounding in his ears, for any more signs of patrols. Finding now, he took off again.

* * *

"He is way past due. Should we look for him?" Lebeau asked while nervously playing with his scarf. Kinch looked at his watch.

"Not with all these patrols around. We need to head back. We are no help to him, if we get thrown in the cooler for escaping."

"You're right Kinch. I just don't like it."

"Neither do I. Come-on." The two stood up and starting, slowly heading back to camp.

* * *

Hogan was out of breath. He was still somewhat weak from being in their car crash, and with a heavy supply box, it was starting to be slow going. Hogan looked down at his watch. It had been more than half an hour since he was suppose to meet up with his men. He knew that they would wait for him as long as they could, but sooner or later they would have to head back. Hogan slumped down, he was exhausted. Taking a moment to breath, he tried to locate how far he was from the Stalag. _About another mile or so. Why did I wait a moment before bailing? I would have been slightly closer._ Hogan berated himself. Taking a deep breath he continued running back to camp.

"Hörst du 'was? _(Do you hear something?)_" A different German in a different patrol group said aloud.

"Ja, da! _(Yes, there!)_" Another answered. "Ist Jemand da?! _(Is someone there?!)_" He yelled. Hogan lay flat, aggravating a wound he sustained in the crash. He bit his lip to keep from calling out. The patrol got closer, and Hogan could see their boots less than a meter in front of his face. Watching them, he saw the younger man shrug and tug on the other's sleeve, leading them away. Hogan held his breath and sat up. Getting ready to make a dash for it, the slightly older man turned and fired his gun. Hogan felt fire hit his thigh, and he went down.

"Hase. _(Rabbit)_" The man turned and continued walking with the other, away from Hogan. Hogan however wasn't going to go anywhere soon. He bit his lip, and dared to look at the gash in his leg. The blood oozing out confirmed what he already knew. He'd been hit. He took a knife and tore a piece of cloth and placed it over the wound, wrapping the knot directly over to help stop the bleeding. Sliding along the ground, he found a stick, and starting to walk using it as a cane. The one mile suddenly turned into closer to 100 miles.

* * *

"Did you hear that Lebeau?" Kinch asked as they were getting ready to climb into the tunnel.

"Oui, Kinch. It sounded like a shot." Lebeau paused a moment. "You don't think that-"

"That is _exactly_ what I am thinking. Come-on!" The two hurried off towards the sound where the gun came from.

* * *

Hogan was panting hard. He could tell by the way the world was spinning that he was losing quite a bit of blood. Stumbling over a root from a tree, he twisted his good knee on the way down, doing a face plant into the dirt.

* * *

"I think it came from over this way." Kinch pointed towards their right.

"No, it came from this way." Lebeau pointed to his left.

* * *

Hogan struggled to get up. He could see that his good leg was extremely swollen. Breathing through the pain, he struggled to get up. But it was no good. He wasn't going anywhere without some help. Placing the supplies and his bag on his lap, he started to scoot along in the dirt. Leaving obvious marks that someone had been there.

* * *

Kinch and Lebeau agreed to split up, each taking their own direction. It was Lebeau who heard the sounds of distressed panting first. Assessing the situation, he approached the sound, and saw that there were drops of blood, before he even saw the colonel. Lebeau felt his legs weaken and the world start to fade to black as he quickly looked away from the blood. Taking a deep breath to steady himself looked around, and quickly saw the colonel. Hogan was lying under a bush, attempting to conceal himself, before a patrol found him.

"Colonel!" Lebeau knelt faster than he ever had in his live, and touched Hogan's shoulder.

"Lebeau! Am I ever glad to see you."

"What happened?!"

"Just the usual day at the office. Are you alone? I need help getting back."

"Non, I am not alone. Kinch is here with me. We split up to find you."

"Split up?! You know better than that! Not that I'm not grateful mind you. But you both should have headed back to camp when I didn't show up."

"We did. But we heard a gunshot, and feared the worst. And it seems our fears were right."

"I'm fine. Go get Kinch, I will need both of you to help with back with all the supplies."

"Oui, Colonel. I will be right back." Lebeau returned a minute later with Kinch, who had almost the same reaction as Lebeau. Between the two of them, they helped carry Hogan, the box of supplies, and his bag back towards camp.

Lebeau entered first, and secured a piece of rope. Returning, he helped Kinch lower the Colonel into the tunnel, where some of the other men helped him down. A moment later, Kinch and Lebau entered.

As Hogan entered, there was nearly the whole of camp, still wearing their spots, waiting for him. They were stunned for a moment, at the condition of their colonel, and then let out a three-cheer cheer, for their colonel. Wilson immediately was at his CO's side.

"Welcome back Colonel! Now what did you get yourself into, Sir?"

"Just the usual. I'm fine, I'm fine, Wilson. Don't fuss."

"Is there anything we can help you with, Sir?" One of the men spoke up.

"I'm fine guys, I'm fine. But if one of you can take care of the box of supplies, that would be helpful." He had hardly finished talking, when the whole hoard of men rushed to take care of the supplies. Hogan then noticed that everyone had spots covering their body. "Why are their spots on your face, Wilson?" Wilson smiled.

"Long story, Sir." Hogan nodded, satisfied he'd probably get the story later. Wilson and Kinch then carried their CO to a cot in the back of the tunnel. As Lebeau fainted from seeing the blood on Hogan's leg, both Wilson and Kinch shrugged and left him there.

"I'm gonna have to get that bullet out, Sir."

"I know, Joe."

"Colonel, I hate to ask you this, especially now, but um, do you have-"

"The plans? Yeah I do. I had to steal them back from a certain detestable colonel." Kinch raised his eyebrows. "Long story." He reached into a secret pocket in his shirt. "But here they are."

"Good, I will get them to our underground member turned mole." That was Hogan's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Long story." Kinch walked off with the plans.

"Ok Sir. I'm really sorry, but this is going to hurt. Unless you happened to bring some more medicine, we are out of-"

"I know. Just give me the bullet to bite on once you get it out."

"I have a feeling you'll want it before then." He smiled, cutting the hole in Hogan's pants so it was slightly larger. "Well on the bright side. At least this alcohol of Klink's is going to good use. It's not like we can drink this stuff."

"It's a shame he isn't buying the good stuff anymore."

"Well if he did that, Sir, what would we use to sterilize things?"

"Good point."

"Are you ready, Sir?"

"No, but do it anyways."

* * * * *

Olsen admitted to himself that he preferred the ship heading to America, then the one heading for France. _Probably because the one heading towards America wasn't designed for battle... and it was heading home._

Olsen stood on deck watching the coast of France loom nearer. In about an hour he would be boarding a plane heading back towards Germany. _I just hope I don't get shot down, that would be a terrible ending for a nice week-long vacation._ He smiled. _I also hope the guys don't hate me for it either._ Olsen turned away from the coast and headed towards the mess hall. _Might as well get something to eat before I am back on prisoner's rations. _

Olsen entered the mess hall where there were still a number of men finishing up lunch. Grabbing a tray he stood in queue.

"What do you have today?" He asked

"We have liver or fish."

"Liver? Fish? Anything else?" Olsen had eaten enough of both to last him three more lifetimes. _I could fill a river with liver, and an ocean with fish(3)!_

"Well we have some toast left over from breakfast…but I think it's circa Civil War." The man told Olsen. Olsen looked down at the bread.

"Give me the fish."

"Smart choice, Sir." He gave a piece to Olsen. Olsen sat down at a table and took a bit. _And I thought regular prisoner's rations were bad. I can't wait to have Lebeau's cooking again! Or be back on that steamer headin' home! _

* * *

_(1)_ _These are references to Ein Käfig Voller Helden. This is different from the English version. Klink is convinced that Hogan will get a jam monopoly and bankrupt Germany in order to win the war. In another episode the Germans drop condoms on England to get them to stop reproducing, and in yet other the Americans drop chocolate bombs on Germany and to give everyone stomach aches, and cavities. Another reference is the last line about Klink and Helga (though you see if more with Hilda)_

_(2) I tried to think of something witty for Hogan to yell as he bombed out. I hope this works. I just couldn't think of anything to match Lebeau's "Viva La France" from the episode "Adler und Teufelskerl". _

_(3) I took that from a M*A*S*H episode, where Hawkeye is tried of the same food being served everyday. No copyright infringement is intended_


	12. Chapter 12

_Sorry again for the delay. Things have been so busy with my teachings. But this is my last chapter :( I want to thank everyone again for their nice reviews. This was a lot of fun! I had no intentions for making this story so long, but then it did!! Let me know what you think one more time! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I promise, no German in this chapter hehe! Vielen Dank und Schönes Lesen! Bis zum näschten Mal!_

* * *

Carter starred at the rock in his hand, thinking of his friend Emil Hase as he laid on his bunk. Everyone else in the barracks had snuck down into the tunnel to welcome their CO back about an hour ago. Carter felt like he should have gone too, but he was in too much pain, and couldn't even remember what the man looked like. _But I know what Emil looks like. He was my friend, and helped me even though I didn't know who, or even what I was. I hope the guy's ok. He doesn't deserve to be locked up. I wonder if we can get him out of there, since we get prisoners out of Germany…can't we get one out of America or England since we are on that side anyways?_ Carter tried to roll over, but decided it was too painful. I wish I could remember more. He hugged the rock close to him, and fell asleep holding it.

* * *

_Carter was walking with Emil Hase They were chatting happily, suddenly up ahead there was a school. They walked closer and Carter found himself holding a test tub. He poured the mixture into a beaker. The beaker exploded and he found himself throw back against the wall of the inside of an airplane with blood running down his face and arm. Someone was shouting orders, looking down he saw that there he was holding a bombardier's stick, pressing a red button he let bombs out. There was an explosion below, and he was getting hit with rocks. They were pouring in from everywhere. Turning around he saw a little boy. The boy was throwing rocks at him, and shouting, he couldn't make out what the boy was yelling. He felt himself get shoved forward, and hit the back wall of a small room. He was trapped, and it felt like ice. Another boy was there. He looked exactly like Carter. "I told you, Andrew, I told you. Why did you allow yourself to be captured? Escape Carter, Escape. Mom needs you. Mary Jane needs you." Carter looked at the boy, he faded and he saw a crying woman. He walked over to the crying women who started laughing, and as Carter put his hand on her shoulder looked at her face, she suddenly turned into a German guard who started yelling at him. "There is no escape for you!" Carter started screaming, the man was chasing him, looking back there were dogs, the dogs were chasing him! One of them grabbed his shoulder and was biting it. Carter screamed!_

"Andrew! Andrew! Wake up, mate! Andrew!" Newkirk was shaking his shoulder. "Wake-up! Andrew! You're dreamin'! Wake-up!"

Carter's eyes flashed opened, he's breathing started to slow and become more steady. He turned his head and looked at Newkirk, he couldn't see him too well in the dark, but was able to make out his shadow.

"Newkirk! Newkirk…it was, it was terrible."

"Wanna tell me about it? I'm one big ear if ya need it." Newkirk sat down on the edge of Carter's bed.

"Thanks Peter. I…I don't wanna talk about it."

"Alright. I'm one flight up if ya need me." With that Newkirk climbed up to his own bunk. Carter laid awake starring at the bunk above him, still unnerved by what he dreamt…

* * * * *

Hogan lay awake on his bunk back in barracks two. He couldn't sleep. It wasn't just the throbbing in his leg, or various other injuries. He kept thinking about Colonel Stevens, and Sergeant Olsen. His mind keep switching between Colonel Stevens and his treatment of the Germans, and if Sergeant Olsen was alright, and when he should be arriving. _I wonder what they're going to do at headquarters about him. Olsen should be arriving soon. Are they just going to dismiss the chargers? How did he end up out at sea? Will they keep him in charge of the transfer camp? I hope Olsen isn't as injured as Carter or me._ Hogan tried to readjust, but the second he moved his leg, a lightening of pain shot out of it. _Tomorrow,_ _we are going to get some more medical supplies. _

* * * * *

Feldwebel Schultz took a deep breath and stepped into barracks two. Holding his breath he walked around and counting each man as he slept in their bunk. No one heard he walking around the room, as they were all two exhausted from having celebrated the return of their CO the night before. As he passed Carter's bunk, he stopped a moment horrified at the injuries on the man's face. After starring a moment at Carter's face, he walked towards Hogan's office. _I wonder what happened…no, no I don't wonder. I don't want to know. I just hope he's okay, and it doesn't happen again. Probably monkey business…poor Carter. _Opening the door to Hogan's office he stepped in to make sure that the colonel was in. Schultz nodded, ending up at 15 men, when he spun around and took a second look at the colonel. Hogan was sweaty and fidgeting in his bed. Schultz pulled the blanket closer to Hogan's chin and shook his head sadly. He quickly exited the barracks and took a large breath of clean air once he got outside. He was glad to be out of the sickroom. _I wonder how much longer they are going to be sick…_

* * * * *

Olsen got ready to bail out of the plane. While he loved flying, jumping from a plane was not exactly his cup of tea. His heart was pounding, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face as he prepared himself to bail. _Okay, Olsen, you can do this. You've done it before, remember? In training, and when you got captured. At least time no one is shooting at you…_Olsen tried to sic himself up.

"We are approaching in five, four, three, two, one, NOW!" Olsen nodded to the navigator and jumped. He could feel the cold night air rushing past him, he tried to keep his eyes open as he raced towards the ground. It seemed that everything was built for ants down there, and in the moonlight it was truly beautiful. As Olsen got ready to pull his cords he marvelled at the beauty of the landscape. _How can such a beautiful country lead such a terrible war?_ The chute expanded and Olsen flew upward and his speed dramatically reduced. He floated in the night air, as a snowflake high above the ground. He smiled, _this is always the part I enjoy, as long as no one is shooting at me! _

* * *

Lebeau, Newkirk, and Kinch went over the last of the plans for the night. Nodding in agreement, Kinch left to man his radio and Lebeau went with Newkirk outside the tunnel.

"I hope Olsen is not injured as well." Lebeau whispered to Newkirk.

"Me too. I'm not carrin' both ya back ta the Stalag."

"Ha-ha. Very funny." As the bushes rustled near the pair, the two of them dropped to the ground and laid very still.

"Lebeau? I know that's you. I can smell strudel." Olsen emerged from the bushes.

"Olsen?! What are you doing here? We are suppose to meet you at the usual spot!" Lebeau couldn't hide his surprise.

"Well I know my way back home. I didn't figure I needed an escort."

"Bloody glad ta 'ave you back, mate. What's that ya got there?" Newkirk eyed the bag Olsen was holding.

"Surprises." Olsen smiled, patting the bag. "Now let's get home." The three of them walked back to Stalag Luft 13. As they climbed down the ladder Kinch walked over to greet them.

"That was quick, did you find-" He looked up as Olsen climbed through the tunnel entrance. "I guess you did."

"Oui Kinch. May we keep him?" Lebeau chuckled. Kinch stroked his chin, as if considering the question.

"I dunno. You'll have to feed and clean up after him, Olsens are a lot of work."

"I already do feed him!"

"Oh well in that case."

"Hey guys! Let's not refer to me in the third person while I'm standing right here. And by the way Kinch, I am already house broken!" Olsen and the group laughed. "Now I have something for you." He handed Kinch a postcard. Kinch looked down at it and shook his head and smiled.

"I don't even know what to say to this. But, um thanks."

"While I figured you needed one, especially after getting my amusing wireless-telegram."

"What telegram?" Kinch was confused.

"The one I sent a few days ago."

"I never got a wireless-telegram."

"What?" Now Olsen was confused.

"Want your postcard back?"

"Nah, you keep it. I already have all the souvenirs I need from this little trip." He pointed to his bag. "Goodies for everyone!" As the men in the tunnel ran to dig into his bag, Kinch motioned for Olsen to step to the side so he could talk to him.

"The colonel and Carter are back-"

"Oh good! Guess I am the last guy home."

"And both of them are pretty badly hurt."

"What?! I mean we got banged up in the car wreck pretty good, but-"

"I don't know what happened to Carter, he won't talk about it, but the colonel went through a nightmare with this one American colonel, and getting shot trying to make it back here-"

"Shot?!"

"Yeah. The colonel wants to see you, but he is hopefully asleep by now. So that can wake till tomorrow."

"Knowing the colonel, I very much doubt he is asleep."

"Me too. He wanted to come down, but Wilson fought him at every corner, and his leg is in too much pain to really be moved." Olsen couldn't believe what he was hearing, but let Kinch go on. "We also all have Hochstetterities."

"Hochstetterities?"

"We had to think of something to cover-up the fact you guys were missing. Now that you are back, we can finally send the last underground member home."

"I guess that explains the spots?"

"Hey Kinch!" Lebeau ran over and interrupted.

"I'm going to take these two candy bars to the guys in the cooler."

"Good thinking, Louis."

"Cooler?" Olsen questioned. Kinch nodded.

"Your stand-ins. They ended up in the cooler. But that's another story. Thing is you're back."

"It sounds like I missed a ton. I will go see the colonel, I'm sure he's awake. From what you're telling me, it sounds like both he and Carter had a terrible time. I personally think it was great." He paused a moment considering. "Like a nice vacation…minus the being in a car crash and still having to attend roll call." He climbed up the ladder and into the dark barracks. Olsen tiptoed over to Hogan's office. He tapped quietly at the door.

"Come-in Olsen."

"How did you know it was me, sir?" Olsen closed the door softly behind him.

"Because you have a distinctive way of knocking. Hogan tried to sit up. Olsen gasped at the sight of his colonel.

"Sir…I had no idea. Kinch said you were injured…"

"Oh the spots? You'll get some in a few minutes. But yes, a nice German patrol decided I needed a bullet in me."

"Sir…I…"

"It's okay Olsen. I'm glad to see that at least you look healthy." Hogan glanced Olsen up and down in the dark. "More healthy then when you left."

"Thank you sir. The Americans took real good care of me."

"I can see that. Lucky you." Hogan had a bitter sound to his voice.

"Well…um. I should be going to bed now. Night Sir."

"Night Olsen." Olsen left the room, and greeted Lebeau who walked over to him, and started decorating his face with small, red dots. As he finished, Kinch raced out of the tunnels and towards Hogan's office. A moment later laughter came through the door. Kinch soon followed.

"What was that about, mon Ami?" Lebeau asked.

"Read this." Kinch handed him a piece of paper.

"Colonel Samuel Stevens was taken captive by the Germans on his way to London. You got your justice, Robby. Irony has him now. Mike. P.S. But please think about what I said. " Lebeau read aloud.

"Mind letting me in on the joke, guys?" Olsen looked between their faces.

"Maybe tomorrow. I think I'm going to get some sleep." Olsen watched Kinch move to his bunk. Olsen soon followed suit.

* * * * *

Carter opened his eyes. Taking a deep breath he gingerly touched his face. His head seemed cleared. Turning it towards the common area of the barracks, he found he could name everyone still asleep in their beds.

It was still fairly early. So early, that Lebeau was still asleep in his bunk. Carter moved his head so it faced Newkirk's bunk again, causing the world to spin slightly. Carter tried to remember what caused his injuries. _There was the beating, Emil and I…poor Emil. I hope he is okay. I wonder if the Colonel can do something for him? And there was the crash. The crash! The car crashed…no, no it was hit by nearby shell fire. It flipped and…_Carter couldn't remember anymore. _We must have been captured. That is why they thought we were Germans. We were in uniform. But we're not. I'm American! I'm an American POW. And Colonel Hogan is in charge!_ Carter smiled, he could remember everything. He still felt like he had been through a blender, but that didn't matter, his memory had returned.

Looking over with his eyes, he saw Lebeau quietly get out of bed, and start to make some coffee. Lebeau noticed Carter's eyes were open and walked over to his bunk.

"How are you feeling, mon Ami?"

"Better. I remember you!"

"You do?"

"Yeah, I remember everyone! You, Newkirk, Kinch, the Colonel, Olsen, Riggs, Lambourne, Foster, Andersen, Petersen, Svensen, James, everyone!" Carter could barely contain his excitement.

"That is wonderful, Andre! Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure."

"Do you two mind ruddy keepin't it down? I'm tryin' ta bloody sleep 'ere."

"Sorry Newkirk," Lebeau leaned towards his ear, "I didn't mean to disturb your beauty sleep."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny Louis." Newkirk rolled over so his back was towards Lebeau. Lebeau grinned and went back to making coffee. As it boiled, one by one the members of the barracks started to rise. Hogan soon limped into the room. As Carter shifted his weight to sit up, Hogan limped over to him.

"How're you feeling?" Hogan steamed as he saw the condition of his crewmember.

"Better, Sir. I can remember things now!"

"That's wonderful-" Schultz walked in, still carrying the towel over his face.

"Muhd oaring! Meelgy meretta?" He quickly dashed across the room, counting everyone and then left so fast the door didn't even have a chance to close after he opened it.

"Ya know, I like roll call better this way." Hogan said aloud.

"Me too." Someone answered, "it's more relaxing. And seeing Schultz ran around the barracks is good for moral!" The barracks laughed. Noticing that Hogan had emerged, the entire barracks circled him, hoping he would tell about his adventure.

"So…Colonel…now that everyone is back, we were kinda wondering…if-"

"If I'd tell what happened? Sure guys. But remember as with anything, don't let the krauts know about it." Everyone promised they wouldn't. Hogan began his tale.

As Hogan talked about the mission to the compound and the subsequent capture, everyone was smiling and making jokes, especially as Hogan described the two Americans who captured him. One member of the group even laughed that it was probably his cousin, which caused the rest of the men to laugh and pat him on the back congratulating him on capturing the colonel. Hogan continued and as he got to the part about Colonel Stevens, the men got silent. Listening to him describe the man made them feel ashamed and angry. Each had their own ideas about what to do with the man, and all agreed that while no one should be captured by the nazis, it was probably the best thing they could do for the Allies' own side! Though as Hogan went on to explain the situation with the colonel's son, the men began to pity the colonel at the loss of his son and the fact he was a POW a second time…they could understand his resentment, but not his actions. Even Hogan, who was still unnerved by the man, felt a little guilty at his own resentment.

Hogan finished up, and was soon followed by Olsen. He picked up the story were he and Colonel Hogan were separated, and as he went on to describe the ship that was taking him over the Atlantic, the room started to tease him dirty looks.

"You mean to say, that you were livin' like a king, while the rest of us were 'ere gettin' prisoner's rations?" One guy asked in disbelief.

"You had Lebeau." Olsen smiled weakly.

"You were sleeping in clean sheets?! Eating three meals aday?!" Another asked shaking his head.

"You still had Lebeau."

"What did you eat? What did you do with your free time?"

"Uhh, we had chicken and salad, and ice cream…and I read, played-"

"Chicken! Ice cream!" A few people interrupted.

"What are German POW red cross packages like?"

"Not half bad." A pillow was tossed playfully in Olsen's face.

"Ya coulda saved us some."

"Hey I brought back chocolate and stuff didn't I?" A low mumble that resembled agreement emerged from the men of the barracks, though another pillow was still tossed playfully in his direction.

At last it was Carter's turn. Carter still wasn't sure if he was ready to share, he had just finally remembered who he was this morning. Sensing that Carter was uncomfortable, Hogan tried to change the subject to how the guys in camp had handled the three missing members. Suddenly Carter spoke up, looking up from the floor, he met Hogan's eyes.

"Sir! Can we save Emil Hase?" Carter's eyes pleaded with him. Hogan was confused.

"Emil Hase?"

"Yeah, this good egg at the camp I was in. He-"

"Wait a minute Carter. His name is Emil Hase? Stationed at the compound that you blew up?" Kinch interrupted

"Yeah that's right he-"

"Colonel! That is the boy that helped the underground member, that help us track down the 9th Army, that helped us find you." Kinch spoke up.

"And the green grass grows around and around…" Someone whispered.

"Are you sure?" Hogan asked, studying Kinch.

"Positive sir."

"And this boy helped you as well Carter?"

"Oh boy yes…Sir!"

"Alright then, let's get on the horn and see what we can do." Hogan hit the lever on the bunk, which caused the ladder to show, and he climbed down, followed by Kinch. Carter looked at the faces of the other men, and laid back down on his bunk. He wanted to go down and help Colonel Hogan, and Kinch, but was in too much pain. After starring at the top bunk for about five minutes, he heard the sounds of someone climbing up the ladder. Straining to sit up, he saw that it was Sergeant Wilson.

"The colonel wanted me to come check on you, and I thought it was a good idea. How're you feeling?"

"Fine. Well, a lot better. I know who I am now!"

"That's good, that shows your brain is starting to heal. Any problems with vision or hearing?"

"Well I did at first, but things are much better now."

"That's good to hear. Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"No…not really…" Carter got uncustomary quiet. Wilson was concerned, as was Hogan about what caused his injuries.

"Carter. Andrew. Did the Americans do this?"

"No."

"Then it was the Germans?"

"Yes." Wilson sensed that Carter had said his fill on the subject, and decided that was enough pushing.

"Alright. I'll check back on you later." He got up and climbed back down the tunnel, and walked over to the radio where both Hogan and Kinch were talking to London.

"Good to hear, Mama Bear. Papa Bear out." Hogan smiled.

"Good news, sir?"

"It is indeed. We are getting one of our underground members out. Well, a underground member's assistant. Anyways. You want to tell me something, Wilson?"

"Yes Sir. Carter is healing nicely, but I am worried about the trauma sustained with the beating he received from the Germans."

"The Germans? So it wasn't the Americans? That's a relief."

"Yes, sir. He needs to talk to someone about it…"

"And I just volunteered."

"He may open up to you sir, with your history of…um, unlucky events _(1)_..."

"I got it Wilson. Thank you." Hogan turned back to say something to Kinch, when his wireless suddenly came alive. Throwing on his headphones, he began to take note of what the sender was saying. Scribbling down the message he handed it to his CO. Hogan grinned from ear to ear.

"Well at least something went right! It seems our little paperwork did indeed fall into the right hands, and London has ordered bombers to knock out a panzer division for dinner and another compound for desert. Let's go upstairs and share this exciting news."

"Yes sir!" Kinch handed the radio back over to the morning radioman, and followed Hogan as he limped up the ladder.

Hogan gathered the men back together, and announced the news. Everyone erupted into a cheer, congratulating each other.

"Does that mean we are cured of our Hochstetterities, Sir?"

"Sounds about right to me, Andersen."

"Perfect, isn't the doctor suppose to come today, Kinch?" Andersen asked.

"He is."

"Just our ruddy luck. I was getting' used ta lyin-in every mornin." Newkirk climbed back up on his bunk.

"You might want to be careful curing us, sir, you might have a mutiny on yours hands, especially from ol' Newkirk."

"Blimy Carter, what am I, navy?"

"Well, no, you see, what I meant was-"

"I got it, Carter." Hogan smiled at him and shook his head, then pulling up a bench next to Carter he began to talk softly. The others getting the idea of what was going on, began to mill around the room, busying themselves.

"Wilson told me that it was the Germans that injured you."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Um…well. They thought I was a traitor, or spy, or something like that. I couldn't really understand what they were saying, but I got that much. Emil got beat up cause of me."

"They?"

"There was three of them…at first. More later."

"What…what exactly did they do?"

"It was a brawl pretty much. Emil defended me. But it was confusing. They kept saying, "Töte die Falsche! Töte die Falsche! Verrätern müssen sterben!" And beating us up. I...I...um..." Carter trailed off. Hogan tried to hide his anger as the words swam around in his head. _Kill the false ones. Kill the false ones. Traitors must die_. Though how a person could be a "false one" and a "traitor" at the same time was beyond Hogan's comprehension, but he continued to listen to Carter's story.

"Why were you confused? It's okay Carter, I won't judge."

"Well…I…" Carter's uneasiness suddenly broke. "I thought they were on my side! Emil liked me, and everyone kept saying I was German! So why should they beat me up, if I'm one of them? But they kept calling me a traitor, I knew that much, and since I did speak English, I…I believed them. I tried to defend myself, but I believed them."

"Cater…Andrew. That's understandable, you had amnesia."

"It just hurts…and I don't just mean physically."

"Andrew. Listen to me. You were wearing a German uniform, in a POW camp, of course you would think you are one of them. And when your own people turn on you, that's hard."

"You have no idea how surprised I was when I found out I was American. And one that blows up bridges!"

"I can imagine."

"Sir, if I can ask. How are you going to explain my injuries to Klink?"

"Well, I am going to say that you and I got in an argument over the best flavoured ice cream, and you got up quickly, I stumbled over the bench you were sitting on, injuring my leg, and you fell smack into door handle, got up dazed, fell into the bunk, still dazed got up and tripped back over the same bench I just did."

"That doesn't even sound plausible."

"Exactly why our illustrious Kommandant Klink will believe it!"

* * * * * *

Kommandant Klink was more than a little relieved when Doktor Duden returned later that same day and announced that the plague epidemic was over. Duden had returned that afternoon, coming to "check" on the men, and seeing that the missing men had returned, agreed that the had all recovered. When Sergeant Wilson informed him, behind Colonel Hogan's back, about the injuries sustained on the mission, the doctor cornered Hogan, with the help of various men in barracks two, and took a look at his leg. He also checked on Carter, assisted by Wilson, and took a look at his injuries, as he had access to more medicine than was available to Wilson. Before leaving to inform the Kommandant of the prognosis of "full recovery", Duden asked Hogan what he should tell Klink about both him and Carter. Hogan replied with the story he told Carter earlier. Duden looked him straight and the face and replied:

"But that makes no sense. Are you sure you don't want me to spin a tale of something relating to your disease, perhaps Carter was delirious and tried to fly off a bunk?"

"Trust me, I know our Kommandant, he will believe it."

"Alright, Colonel. I'll go inform him of your recovery. I would suggest taking the red spots off slowly, as if they are healing. I wish you well. Good luck." With that Duden left.

* * * * * *

Life slowly started to return to normal at the camp. Hogan's leg was stiff now and then, but healed quickly, and the cuts and bruises left by Carter's encounter with the Germans were healing as well. Though both men were still haunted by the words of their encounters, more than the physical ramifications. _Perhaps it is because we are human. And we don't like to be faced with that fact. We like to think we are wise. I will talk to London about breaking Colonel Stevens out of his prison camp. I don't like the man. I don't want him in charge of prisoners. But I can't stand to see a man who has gone through so much suffer either. _Hogan nodded to himself. The thought of helping someone who refused to help him, made Hogan feel better. That while he was treated unjustly, that he could still treat the offending party with justice, made him feel good about himself.

Carter on the other hand was still keeping quiet about what happened. He had heard that Emil Hase was released and was living in London, helping the Allied Command. Looking down at his pencil, he started writing again. He was going to keep a carefully coded diary. While paper was scare, he was still determined to keep one, and keeping it coded so the Germans wouldn't be able to read it if they found it…or anyone else in the barracks. He never wanted to lose himself again. Ever. It was a terrifying experience and it could happen again. If he is mixing some chemicals and…boom! Or if he is on another mission…he wanted to ensure that he would have a way to remember who he was. _There is only one Andrew John Carter. And I will make sure that Andrew John Carter never forgets Andrew John Carter again!_

Olsen was sitting at the table playing cards with Newkirk, or rather was starring off into space dreamily for a moment, before Newkirk snapped his fingers near Olsen's ear.

"'Ey mate. You gonna call?"

"Huh? What? Oh! Oh yeah. I was, I was just thinking."

"Must been amusin', wha' ever it was."

"I was just thinkin' about the last mission we went on, you know, the one where we all got captured. And well if my grandkids ever ask about the war."

"I can just see you with ten little kids on your knee." Newkirk snickered, Olsen rolled his eyes.

"Anyways, and if Little Peter Jr.-"

"Aw, thanks mate-"

"Who says, he's named after you?"

"Well you didn't say Andrew Jr, now did ya?"

"Hey!" Carter yelled from over on his bunk.

"Anyways! I was think about if Little Robert Jr, named after the Colonel, ha! Asked about what the strangest thing that happened to me during the war was. How I would answer. And I think I would have to answer with this past mission."

"That's assuming, tha' we can talk 'bout it when that war's ov'r." Newkirk tapped his fingers on the cards, indicating he wanted Olsen to show his hand.

"I'd have to agree with you, Olsen." Hogan walked in, showing only the hint of a limp, and poured himself some coffee before leaning on the common-room table. "The past one was definitely one for the record books."

"Yes sir."

"And I agree with you as well. I believe Robert Jr is a much better name than either Peter Jr, or Andrew Jr." Hogan smiled. Noting that both Newkirk and Carter gave him slightly dirty looks.

"Now 'ang on a minute, sir…" Newkirk started to protest.

"Oui. I agree mon Colonel. I will not name my son Peter Jr either." Lebeau walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"'Ey! Wha's wrong with me name?!"

"Nothing. It's just not…Robert-ish enough." Hogan chuckled.

"Well if your defence, _Peter_, I did use Peter in the original example." Olsen shrugged.

"Oh thank-you, _John_."

The light-hearted bickering continued even as Kinch entered from the barracks; not wanting to get involved he stood on the sidelines, amused. He stood watching as the whole barracks soon became involved. _It's nice to have the whole family home again._ Smiling, he glanced at his watch, it would soon be time for evening roll-call. Afterwards Hogan would talk Klink into letting the men out of the cooler and Kinch would hand the message from London to him, and it would be off on yet another mission. _Just another day in the bizarrest job in the war._ Kinch grinned and shook his head, as Schultz entered to announce:

"Roooooooll Caaaaaaaaaall!"

The End!

Or is it…

* * *

(1) _That is in reference to all the stories written about our poor Colonel...(and yes that includes this one!)_


End file.
